TWC: Search for the Azure Princess
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: Witzend's Azure Princess was kidnapped long ago. There are rumors of an uprising in the Outlands. The Hatter is Madder than ever, and Alice has vanished. Can an Abovegrounder named Jane set all to rights, or will an old enemy destroy all they've built?
1. Prologue: Happily Ever After

**Author's Note**: Well, before anything else, allow me to welcome you to my newest endeavor! This is a story that I first conceived of in July 2010, and after much hard work and a _lot_ of frustration, I'm finally ready to begin posting. Before we get going, though, I apologize for the ridiculous length of the Author's Notes and Disclaimers. For whatever reason, this story demands a lot of up-front disclaiming and explanation.

Please keep in mind that, as always, my profile page is where I post frequent updates about where I am [and why I haven't posted the chapter that I owe you]. As far as writing, this entire story is written already, but I'm sending each chapter to my wonderful shiny new beta, and I'm also writing another story in between posting. So if it's been more than two weeks and you haven't gotten a chapter, either I'm making changes based on my beta's suggestions, or I've got some other form of writer's block. In any case, I'll write a note about it on my profile.

Honestly, I never intended to write a Wonderland fanfic. Yeah, I loved the Burton movie, but the thought of writing a fanfiction for it never once crossed my mind. Well, alright, there was that one little idea about the Room of Doors and where each of those doors might lead, and what those doors had to do with Wonderland, and what adventures AIice's six kids might have behind those doors… But I never intended to write it. I was too busy working on _Light_, and I had a real life to worry about.

Then I got bored one weekend, and on a whim decided to read some absolutely wonderful AIW fics, which led to an entire week of reading said wonderful stories [really, you people are devilishly clever, I applaud you]. And predictably [and rather obviously, given that you're reading this right now], an Idea began to form. A crazy, mad, wonderful Idea. Which lead to what you're about to read.

Now, I will be the absolute first to admit that I am a complete amateur at the world of AIW fiction. It's much more difficult to work with the Underlandians than any other fandom I've written for to date [including _AVPF_, and some of you might recall how much I complained about those characters], and while I enjoy the challenge, I'm still worried that I'm not doing it justice. I'm most probably going to mangle every last character that we all know and love. And by mangle, I mean decimate, destroy, annihilate, ruin, slaughter, demolish—_Roxie!_—Thank you… I'm fine… Anyways, please forgive me for any harm that comes to these characters that's due to my own failing to research or take the time to think things through. Harm that comes to the characters due to the plot, however, I won't apologize for. All I'll say is that I will eventually fix everything I break. Except character death, I can't do much about that.

Also, I must warn you that despite this chapter, this is not a story of _Alice_ in Wonderland. This chapter is a prologue more than anything, because it's absolutely essential to the rest of my story, but Alice will not be my protagonist. Don't worry, she wlll appear later on with a vengeance, and given that she's Absolutely Alice you can count on her having a very large presence until she actually shows up. Until then, you get to put up with a character of my own invention. If OC AIW fics aren't your thing… well, this isn't the story for you.

**Note on Characters' World:** My characters are firmly based in the Burtonverse [though working off the assumption that, as Carroll wrote, Alice went to Underland twice as a child, not once like in the movie]— mostly because it's been years since I've read the books or seen the 50s Disney movie, and I've never seen the SyFy version. Irresponsible of me to mess around with characters without consulting all the available materials, I know, but lack of funds prevents me from doing a more thorough job. Trust me, nobody regrets that more than I do. I'll do my best with what I have, though.

Several of the countries I list in Alice's POV are mentioned by the names they were called in the 18th and 19th centuries. That's me striving for story accuracy, so I'm sorry for any confusion. Alice is talking about what today we call South Africa, Jakarta, Thailand, and Japan.

A bluestocking refers to an educated, intelligent and independent woman. It's a derisive term that implies frumpiness, spinsterhood, and being ill-suited to Society.

I'm writing this story on the assumption that Alice's childhood trips to Underland took place in roughly 1852, and that her third trip took place in 1865, because that's the year Carroll's novel was published. This means that this prologue chapter takes place in 1870, and the rest of the story will take place in 1895.

**Original Character Face Claim**: Andrew Manning is portrayed by Ryan Reynolds.

**Overall Disclaimer**: This should be pretty obvious, and so I'm only going to say this once [any disclaimers from here on out will be restricted to specific details]. If you recognize it, I don't own it. This refers to material from any of the movies or TV series, books, or fanfictions. Everything except my own characters are owned by Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, and the Disney Corporation. If you think you've seen it in another fanfiction, I truly do apologize; I don't mean to steal any other author's idea, and if I did it was purely unintentional and coincidental. However, if you do know of other stories with similar ideas, _please_ tell me so I can give credit.

**Hat Disclaimer**: I did do my research about the Hat, and I do know what the 10/6 tag on the Hat actually means. I screwed that bit of book-canon over on purpose, and hopefully you won't object when you see why I did it.

**OOC Disclaimer**: Yes, I do realize that a divorce in the 1870s would have been absolutely scandalous, especially among London society, the _haute_ _ton_ [as mentioned above, I do conduct research for my stories]. However, I am a firm believer that both Helen and Margaret are related to Alice for a reason, and that secretly they do share her muchness, in their own ways. That's why I made the decision I did concerning Margaret, and societal norms of the time be damned.

Also, I realize that in the final scene, Alice may be acting a bit out of character- being unusually forthright and such. I'm calling that character development; she couldn't have been a successful businesswoman if she didn't know when to beat around the bush and when to be direct. I've always seen Alice as a child/girl/woman who knows what she wants, and for the purposes of the rest of this story my Alice is a woman who will get what she wants.

**Warnings**: There will be, throughout the story, incidents of violence, gore, and eventual character death. I'll try to give you warning when this is going to occur.

**Special Thanks**: A million thanks to my beta, Jiffie, for taking me on! Ample thanks and praise will be given for all the help I'm sure she's going to give this story before we're through.

* * *

It was Finally Time.

Five long years had passed since Alice Caroline Kingsleigh fell down the rabbit hole and saved Underland from the threat of the Jabberwocky and the murderous reign of the Red Queen and her enforcer the Knave. For five years she had been Aboveground again, for as she had told the Mad Hatter, there were questions she'd needed answered, things she'd had to do.

In five years she had traveled to China and viewed the wonders of the Orient. She had secured trade agreements with all the major ports of China- Macau, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Tianjin, Taiwan. She had faced opposition, of course; several of the junior partners in the Company had objected to Alice contributing her ideas. Whether they had resented that she was a woman or that she had better ideas than they did or perhaps both, Alice didn't know. But she didn't let their antagonism stop her; after all, what was her muchness for if not to overcome obstacles?

She had worked hard in the three years she spent in China, yes, but she had played just as hard. She had marveled at the Great Wall, traveled to the Tibetan plateau, and drunk some of the most glorious teas in the world. She had lost herself in the glorious bazaars of Shanghai, buying more hats than she knew what to do with, one or two spectacular looking glasses, and several fragrant flavors of hookah.

During the long journey home, Alice and Lord Ascot had spent long nights poring over their map, contemplating where to take the Company next. Should they go to South Africa, for the gold, diamonds, and iron? To Batavia, for spices and agriculture? Perhaps to Siam, for opium and textiles, or perhaps to Japan? These talks filled Alice with satisfaction. The Company would be secure for years, perhaps decades to come. The Company's successes had filled Alice's bank account, had helped her finally pay off the debts Charles Kingsleigh had left behind and to stabilize her family's finances.

And she had never been more Absolutely Alice. For five years she had been fighting society's expectations of her, never settling for any path that she hadn't made. It hadn't been easy to constantly battle, of course. It hadn't been easy to be ostracized from the society of those English who had settled in Shanghai or Hong Kong, to be labeled a bluestocking simply because she wanted to make her father's dreams come true. Pitting her muchness against the norms of society had not been easy, but she reveled in the fight and didn't regret a moment of it.

True, there had been one time when she had nearly given her business and her freedom up for marriage, but in the end she hadn't been able to say yes to Robert Nevermore. For in truth, she had long known that she would not spend the rest of her life in England. England was not- and perhaps never had been- home to her, and to try to pretend otherwise was not only a betrayal of her muchness, but an insult to an honorable man like Robert. She would have been happy with him, yes… but it wouldn't have been enough. She would always be longing for the place she truly called Home, and someday they would come to resent each other. To attempt to settle down with a husband and a family wasn't fair to anyone, and so she had refused Robert's proposal and turned her face towards home.

Alice stood at the helm of the _Wonder_, gripping the railing eagerly as she scoured the horizon for the shores of England. She would be sorry to disembark the _Wonder_; the ship had been her home for two year-long voyages through many seas and safe harbors, and even when she resided on land she had still considered the _Wonder_ to be her true berth. She had come to know and love every inch of the craft. She had spent her days walking the deck, learning how to steer and guide the ship through the waters once the crew overcame their superstitious fear that a woman onboard brought bad luck. She had climbed up to the crow's nest to marvel at the vastness of the world; she had stood at the bow of the ship to experience the sensation of flying.

However, all things must come to an end, she reminded herself. Her adventures with the _Wonder_ were over, but the next adventure was only just about to begin.

Smiling to herself, Alice fingered the chain that had hung around her neck for the past five years. Inside the well-worn leather pouch was a glass vial half-full of a foul-smelling purple liquid. The vial of Jabberwocky blood was the thing that had kept Alice from Forgetting when she returned from Underland. Physical objects were, after all, much more difficult to forget than memories. Memories faded with Time's passing, even her dearest-held memories of bright orange hair and electric green eyes. Alice had been horrified to realize that as Time went on, she had begun to forget the sound of his voice, the blend of fragrances that formed his scent, the exact shade of his eyes at his very happiest. She railed against Time, fought him with all her strength, but still he marched on, and still her memories slipped away from her. The vial of Jabberwocky blood was Alice's daily reminder that it had all Happened, that they were all real and she hadn't dreamed them up. They were Real; _he_ was Real. Her Hatter…

_Stop it, Alice_, she chastised herself. Of course she had long accepted that she was coming Home to him above all, but did she really need to think of him in such very possessive terms? Yes, she had dreamt about him an astonishing amount since she'd left, and yes, her thoughts had taken a decidedly… _amorous_ turn at times. But how could she by any stretch of her considerably formidable Imagination claim to call him _her_ Hatter? They had no understanding; no intentions had ever been declared. Their relationship was that of brother and sister- fiercely devoted to and protective of each other, but nothing more. To claim ownership of him in such a manner was neither appropriate nor accurate.

And yet she did claim him, with a fierce possessiveness and utter certainty that astonished her. She wanted him to be hers. She wanted to be the one he turned to at a Tea Party to share a rhyme or riddle; she wanted him to Futterwhacken for her alone. Of all the creatures and people she had met during her adventures in Underland and the Aboveground, he had always been singular and incomparable, unrivaled in both worlds Alice knew. In Tarrant Hightopp she had found a kindred spirit, a twin flame. He had understood her without even needing to try; he had banished her loneliness and accepted her without question. She wanted the chance to do the same for him, to in some way ease the loneliness he had felt since the Horunvendush Day, when he'd lost everything he cared about.

Could such a thing be possible? Could he possibly come to care for her in a way other than brotherly affection? Could he give her his heart, in exchange for her own? Could she ever hope to become His Alice, could she call him Her Tarrant? These were the only questions that still went unanswered, and she meant to put an end to that very, very soon.

There! Alice's breath caught in her throat as the unending, somber blue-gray of the Atlantic Ocean gave way to a darker smudge that she knew from her extensive travels meant land. England. Alice bounced with impatience, gripping the railing tighter and willing the ship to go faster. From behind her came a dry, amused chuckle.

"Anxious to be home, Alice?" Lord Richard Ascot asked, walking up to join her.  
"Very much so, sir," Alice nodded.  
"Not much longer now," he smiled down at her. "We'll be there before noon. And knowing my wife, she'll have one of her elaborate parties ready for us tonight."

Though she felt like groaning in despair, Alice smiled instead. After all, this wasn't going to be like that foiled engagement party, where she felt so trapped, like a bird locked in a gilded cage. She had only to sit through a supper and a few dances. Then it would be an easy thing to say she desired some air, step out into the garden… and as soon as she was out of sight of any guests, she would down that Jabberwocky blood and be Home At Last.

Two more hours saw them in port. As soon as the gangway had been laid, Alice flew down it, sprinting towards her mother and sister. There was a flurry of excited laughter and feminine squeals as the women threw their arms around each other. And for once, Helen Kingsleigh was so excited to see her younger daughter that she said nothing at all about the impropriety with which Alice had exited the ship.

"Oh Alice, it's so wonderful to have you home again," she said rapturously, holding Alice as close as she could.  
"I've missed you, Mother," Alice sighed, deeply inhaling the scents she associated with her mother- her lavender toilette water, the rose sachet she kept in her linen drawer, the warm motherly smell that was uniquely her.  
"Let me get a good look at you," Helen said, pulling away from her daughter far enough to see her face. "How beautiful you are. Travel agrees with you."  
"Thank you," Alice said modestly. "And you look well rested. Bath must have agreed with you, you must tell me all about it," she smiled, referencing her mother's latest excursion to take the mineral waters.  
"Of course, on the carriage ride," Helen nodded, as Margaret pushed her way to the forefront.  
"Alice!" she squealed with glee, drawing her sister as close as she could with a pregnant stomach in the way.  
"Hello, Margaret," Alice laughed, hugging her sister tightly before pulling back to lay her hands on Margaret's burgeoning stomach. "How are you?"  
"Much better, now that it's almost over," Margaret smiled, laying her hands over her sister's. "Much more energetic than I was at first."  
"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?" Alice asked.  
"I want a girl to spoil," Margaret replied gleefully. "There's plenty of time for sons later, though of course I suppose I should say that I want a son to carry on Andrew's name."  
Alice smiled. "As you said, there's plenty of time for sons later. It's lovely to finally meet you in person, Mr. Manning. Margaret has told me so much about you."  
"Andrew, please," he replied with a smile, stepping forward to shake Alice's hand. "I hope you don't mind if I call you Alice right off? Margaret has shared your letters with me, and I feel as though I know you already."  
Alice smiled. "I'd be delighted for you to call me Alice, Andrew."

Helen and Margaret watched the meeting with happy faces, more than happy that Alice seemed to approve of Andrew as much as her letters had implied.

Very soon after Alice's almost-engagement, Margaret had walked in on Lowell Manchester and his Hattie "advancing their friendship" in the antechamber of a ballroom, during one of the _ton_ social events of the Season. At first, Margaret had intended to forgive and forget. After all, few marriages were love matches, and even fewer men remained faithful to their vows. Even if Margaret was cut to the quick and deeply wounded by Lowell's betrayal, she could not bring herself to believe that infidelity was a serious enough offense to justify divorce.

It was soon after that, however, that Margaret learned that Lowell had squandered away Margaret's dowry on drinking and gambling. His financial irresponsibility was putting a strain on even his father's substantial coffers. Any money Margaret might have hoped to save for a son's education, or a daughter's dowry, was now long gone. It was this that drove Margaret to divorce Lowell, in a show of muchness that Alice had cheered from Shanghai. As Margaret had stated in a letter to Alice,

_I will always love Lowell, but I can no longer respect or depend upon him. I cannot in good conscience remain married to a man that I do not respect. His betrayals have shown me that he is no longer the man he once was, and I do not believe he ever shall be that man again, if ever he truly was. _

_I am sure that Society will condemn me for what I do, but I cannot help but think of you, and your firm belief that one's own happiness should supersede the demands of Society. It is a terrifying stance, but I must confess, it is a liberating one. While I do not think I shall ever carry this maxim to the lengths you have- traveling the world, entering the world of commerce, and rejecting marriage and children- I do admire you, Alice, for your refusal to settle for anything less than that which will make you truly happy._

After spending a quiet two years away from London, Margaret had met Andrew Manning at a garden party, and the rest was history. They were now wed and blissfully happy, excitedly awaiting the birth of their first child. Seeing how happy Margaret was, Alice smiled in approval; she knew she wouldn't need to worry about her sister's well-being when she left tonight.

"Shall we adjourn to the carriage?" Helen proposed. "I'm sure Alice would appreciate a chance to rest and freshen up before the Ascots' ball this evening."  
"I could use a bath," Alice nodded. "And a cup of tea."  
"Well then," Helen smiled, taking Alice's hand and leading her to the carriage.

Alice bit her lip as she followed her family into their carriage. She was determined upon her path; she would return to Underland this evening, and this time she would stay. But her reunion with her family had driven home to her just how much she was sacrificing in order to return to Underland. She would have loved to hold her niece or nephew, to get to know her brother-in-law. She wished she could encourage her sister to continue seeking her own happiness, watch the years roll off of Helen's face as she played with her grandchild.

Sighing, she shook her head to clear it of the sad thoughts. Yes, she was giving up a life with her family… but she was going to be returning to a family that she loved just as much, who accepted her unconditionally and without reserve. She knew she would miss her family, but she also knew that some things were not going to change. She would still suffer from a travelers' itch; she would never be content to remain at home. Helen would not give up her campaign to see Alice properly married off and settled down. Margaret too would insist upon Alice conforming at least a bit to Society, and those were things that Alice could not abide. No, the only choice was to leave England, this time forever.

"Now," she said, as much to distract herself as anything, "tell me about Bath…"

* * *

The dancing had lasted for hours now, long since past the time that sunset had faded to twilight, and twilight had melted away into true night. And what a beautiful night it was- the sky was an inky black, dotted with a million stars, while the full moon shone with all her strength. The night air was warm and perfumed with the scents of flowers- Lady Ascot's prized red roses above all. Alice stood on the balcony, a glass of champagne in hand, as she stared out into the evening. It was as if the world had decided to show herself to best advantage, to give Alice a truly beautiful farewell. She would miss the beauty of the Aboveworld…

But there were more beauties waiting for her, she reminded herself. There was a whole new, mostly unexplored world, just waiting for her to return. All she had to do was say her goodbyes, and then she could start her new life.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, Alice turned and headed back inside. She twisted her fingers in the folds of her off-the-shoulder, silk ballgown- blue, of course; there was no more Alice a color than blue- and purposefully strode through the room, looking for her mother and sister. Fortunately, they were sitting together, Helen clearly fussing over Margaret and her unborn child. She smiled as she approached them.

"You'll never stop mothering us, will you?"she asked.  
"Never," Helen said serenely.  
"Good," Alice smiled, laughing softly before bending to press a kiss to her mother's kiss, inhaling her scent and committing it to memory. Then she turned and wrapped her arms around her sister's shoulders. "You're going to make a wonderful mother, Margaret," she smiled, kissing Margaret's cheek.  
"Thank you, Alice," Margaret smiled, returning Alice's kiss.  
"I'm getting a headache. I'm going to call for the carriage and leave early," Alice said, the lie bitter on her tongue.  
"Of course, dear. Would you like me to come?" Helen asked.  
"No, no, there's no need," Alice shook her head. "Stay here and fuss over Margaret some more, I'll be fine. I just need to get away from the heat and the noise."  
"Very well. If you're sure," Helen hedged.  
"I am," Alice nodded.  
"Alright. Good night then, dear," Helen said.  
"Good night," Alice replied. "Please give my apologies to the Ascots, and tell Andrew good evening from me."  
"Of course," Margaret nodded.

She forced herself to straighten and head for the door. When she reached the doorframe, she chanced one final glance back, drinking in the image of her mother and sister. She must always remember them like this, she told herself; they were so happy and carefree. Helen, content at the good fortunes of her daughters; Margaret quietly glowing with the miracle that grew within her. They would be safe, and well provided for; Alice could ask for nothing more.

Was it right to do this, she asked herself? Was she right to leave them with so little explanation, to hurt them like this? It would hurt them, she knew; they had had their differences, but they were still family, and they loved each other. For Alice to slip away like a thief in the night… Perhaps she ought not to leave like this. Perhaps she should attempt to explain in person, to make the separation easier.

And yet, she knew that the separation wouldn't be easier. Nothing would make it easier; it was still one of the hardest things she would ever have to do. No, it was best to simply leave. She had taken precautions to protect her family- she had split her fortune in half and given each half to Margaret and Helen. She had relinquished her shares in the Company to Andrew's capable hands. She had written them letters, attempting to explain. There was nothing else she could do.

_I do admire you, Alice, for your refusal to settle for anything less than that which will make you truly happy._

Alice repeated Margaret's words to herself, summoning up her muchness. She was seeking her own happiness now; that had to be her focus. Her family was going to be just fine. Now it was time to ensure the same for herself.

Earlier that afternoon, she had packed herself a small valise with the few mementos she intended to bring with her to Underland. A photograph of her father, another of her mother, Margaret and Andrew. The letters she'd received from them for the past five years. An assortment of teas, which she would give to the Hatter. The delicate necklace her mother had given her the day of that failed engagement attempt. And finally, her diaries, kept since she was six years old, which detailed everything from her first trip to Wonderland to pulling into port today. Slipping into the cloakroom, Alice fetched the valise, which she'd hidden in a dark corner. Holding the bag of treasures to her chest, Alice headed outside, facing the life she was walking towards instead of the one she was walking away from.

She took off through the gardens, trying to remember the paths she had taken five years ago, following a white rabbit in a waistcoat. If only she had a guide now, she thought wryly. McTwisp, with his delicate nerves and disapproval of Aboveground animals and their indiscretions, was hardly the ideal travel guide, but his white fur would have been easy to spot in the darkness. Huffing in irritation, Alice glanced up at the stars. She thought she remembered that the tree had been to the southwest of the Ascots' property, so if she turned a little more to the left… There!

Sighing in relief and thanking the sailors of the _Wonder_ for their lessons in navigation, she ran towards the tree where it had all begun. She laid a hand on the trunk, sighing thoughtfully as she looked at the old thing. The tree was dead; it had been cut back to only the trunk and the stronger branches. Alice was sure that Lady Ascot would have preferred for the tree to be dug up completely and used as firewood, and she sent a silent prayer of thanks that it was still here. True, she could have drunk the Jabberwocky blood anywhere, but it felt right to come here. This tree was a doorway, both physical and psychological; there to bolster her should she have last-minute doubts about the existence of the world she was about to return to.

It was obvious that someone had tried to fill the rabbit hole in, she thought as she knelt down, though not near enough to fall in. But Underland's emissaries could not be kept in, and Alice would not be kept out, she thought smugly.

Opening her valise, Alice withdrew a large, heavy envelope, which was stuffed with letters. One was addressed to Lord Ascot, announcing her resignation from the Company and her decision to surrender her shares to Andrew. She also asked him to continue looking after her family, as he had done since her father's death. Another letter was addressed to Helen and Margaret, asking them not to worry about her. She loved them and always would, she told them, but she was leaving England to find her happiness. She had written a letter to Margaret's unborn child, telling it how she wished she could have met it, but that she loved it anyways. With this letter, she included a manuscript- a novelization of her adventures in Wonderland. In this small way, she hoped to influence her niece or nephew, to keep his or her imagination open and to instill some of her muchness into the child. Lord knew, any child growing up in the Aboveground would have need of an awful lot of muchness… Gently, she set the letters down against the tree trunk, then nodded. Now she was Ready.

Unhooking the chain from her neck, Alice withdrew the vial from its pouch. Unable to keep from smiling, she popped open the jeweled lid, not even deterred by the foul smell of the blood. For a moment she paused; what if the blood no longer worked? Did Jabberwocky blood go rancid? And if it could go bad, would she suffer ill effects from drinking it? What if the blood malfunctioned, and instead of sending her Home, it sent her Elsewhere? What if she got lost somewhere in that grey fog she remembered, suspended between Worlds and unable to return to either of them? What if… what if…

Never mind, she decided, firmly telling herself not to panic. If it didn't work, she would simply fling herself down the rabbit hole again. And if the blood had gone bad and didn't work properly… Well, she wasn't the Champion of Underland for nothing. She could face down anything that Fate threw her way. If she got stuck or lost, she would fight to get Home; if she suffered ill effects from the blood, she would simply ask Mirana for her help. That plan in place, she put the vial to her lips and let the liquid slide down her throat, shuddering at the taste- like rancid cough syrup mixed with dirty socks and rotten turnips. Worse than pishalver, if that was possible…

_I want to go home_, she thought. Then, realizing that a vague wish would not only not take her to the Hatter, but could end up with her being sent to her mother's house instead of Underland, she reworded her desire. _I want to be in Underland, with Tarrant Hightopp._

She blinked rapidly as the world began to dissolve around her. It was unsettling, yes, but she recognized the grey, fog-like mist that swirled around her; the last time she'd seen it was when she left the battlefield after slaying the Jabberwocky. So instead of screaming, she smiled, trusting in her fervent wish completely. The fog cleared, to be replaced by a vision of gnarled, sinister-looking trees. Her smile widening, Alice secured her grip on her valise, grabbed her skirts in both hands and took off at a sprint down the path that she knew would lead her Home.

Knowing herself as she did, she was probably late for tea again, and that really was unforgivably naughty of her. She hoped that the Hatter would forgive her for her tardiness…

* * *

The Mad Hatter had a talent for throwing Tea Parties.

His Tea Parties tended to draw people together, to mesh them into the fabric of Underland. He was a champion of the underdogs and the misfits, always had been; his Parties made them a part of the whole again. Or at least, so he had been told, back in the days of the Resistance. He had never considered his Tea Parties to be anything but a gathering of friends and food, but if the sharing of tea and treason gave a feeling of inclusion to the oppressed, then he was very happy to hear it.

That was the reason he was seated at the head of the table just now. He was Waiting, waiting for his tea to work its magic and call to one particular misfit. She'd be late, of course; the naughty wee little boy was always late for her tea. But that was alright. He could wait for her. There was really nothing else for him to do, after all.

_Be back again before you know it…_

He had tried so hard not to Know it. After the Frabjous Day, he had accepted the White Queen's offer to return to Marmoreal, to take up his post as Royal Hatter once again. He had kept himself as busy as he possibly could, spending nearly every waking moment creating hats for the Queen and her Court. He had worked so much that the mercury, which had mostly leached out of him after the White Queen's banishment, had again begun to poison him, staining his skin and affecting his mind. It had been a happy, harmless Madness, though; he was in a perpetual haze, trapped in a safe world of creative delirium, where nothing mattered but ribbons and feathers and flowers and beautiful hats. He was happy to be working in the palace again, and the Court was wild over his creations, if rather wary of him personally. And if one in every six hats he made was blue and white and was clearly an Alice Hat… well, no one commented [to his face, at least].

But Time had moved with unusual determination and relentless speed, and all of a sudden he had Known It. He'd Known, but Alice hadn't been back. And not even the mercury-induced haze was enough to save him from the true Madness, the Bad Madness, the fracturing of his mind that was due to Horunvendush Day. The Voice, that mysterious Other, had awoken, and begun Its evil work with a vengeance, whispering to Tarrant of anger, rejection, pain, loss, unworthiness, destruction. More and more often, his eyes would darken to that shade of topaz that meant Danger, and he would rant and rave and destroy whatever was within arm's reach [everything except the Alice Hats, and the Alice Dresses and Alice Shoes, of course], screaming in Outlandish the entire time. The Madness had kept getting worse and worse, until even Mallymkun was having trouble snapping him out of it.

There had been one particularly bad Day, one where he lost all track of Time and raved for a Time-less amount of Time, until Mally stabbed him in the hand and distracted the Voice long enough for Tarrant to shut It away into the Darkness, where It belonged. He had looked up, then been terrified to see Mirana standing there, a solemn look in her dark eyes. He had fallen to his knees, bewildered and babbling apologies, his mind reeling with horror at what Could Have Been. He could so easily have broken her, destroyed her pale perfection with one mindless swing of his arm. Fates above, he could have _killed_ her, and he would never have known it, Lost as he was in the Madness.

Mirana had taken one look at Tarrant, curled in the fetal position on the floor, shaking and exhausted, and suggested that perhaps he would prefer to leave the crowded rooms of Marmoreal, to return to the Tulgey Wood for a time. He had protested; the position of Royal Hatter was vitally important, much more important than anyone but the Queen and the Hatter [and Absolem of course, and very likely the Cat] knew. But Mirana had gently insisted, blinking her dark eyes and telling him that she was waiting for Alice's return as well, and that if Alice would go anywhere, it would be to a Tea Party.

And so he had returned here, to his armchair at the head of the tea table, to drink tea and to Wait.

She had promised. Alice the Champion, Absolutely Alice, Alice At Last… dare he say it, even in his thoughts? _His_ Alice… had promised to return. "Be back again before you know it," she had said. She had promised to return to Underland, promised she wouldn't forget him this time. He knew His Alice [how he liked the possessiveness of that _his_!] better than anyone; better even than he knew himself. She would not break a promise, especially not one like this.

She had promised to return to Underland. And he had promised to wait for her.

_Be back again before you know it…_

But he Knew It; by the Butterfly, how he knew it. And yet she hadn't returned.

Sometimes, Time flew; at other times, he crawled. Sometimes he even came to a standstill, and that was when the Hatter hated Time the most. In those never-ending moments, it was almost impossible for him to hold on to Hope, for him to continue believing that Alice was coming.

What if she had been right after all? What if he was only a figure in her dreams? And if so, what if Alice had woken up? What happened to a dream, once the dreamer has awoken? Would he cease to exist? Would he remain in limbo forever, until Alice fell asleep once again and brought him back to life? Was it fair to ask her to fall asleep forever, simply so he could see her again? If he was, in fact, a dream, then shouldn't he remain content in the knowledge that she had to fall asleep sometime, and when she did, he would see her again? But then again… what if she fell asleep, but dreamed a different dream? How many worlds did Alice hold prisoner, each of them waiting for her to sleep and return to them? Could he travel between worlds, so no matter where she went in her sleep he was there with her?

He closed his eyes against those questions, not wanting to know what it meant for him should he find an answer and discover that he was, in fact, not alive or real but simply a figment of Alice's imagination. He drew a deep breath, pulling out his list of Impossible Things. Alice, quite clearly a saganstitute, had once said that she sometimes believed as many as six Impossible Things before breakfast. In those moments were Time returned to pick another fight, the Hatter would pull out his list of Impossible Things and repeat it over and over again like a mantra, clinging to the words like a drowning man holding onto a flotation device, until Time retreated once again and left him in peace.

001. There was a place called the Aboveground.  
002. In that place, women wore stockings and corsets and men wore matching socks.  
003. In the Aboveground was a city with the unimaginative name of London.  
004. In London dwelt the Champion of Underland, Slayer of the Jabberwocky and Keeper of the Vorpal Sword.  
005. He had somehow managed to fall absolutely, Hat over kilt in love with her.  
006. His Alice, His Absolutely Alice, would return and remember him.

Sometimes, when Tarrant was feeling particularly daring, he would add one last Impossible Thing to his list.

007. Alice cared for him, just enough that he could begin to work on making her His Alice in Truth.

Time had continued to flow around him, sometimes as slow as molasses, other times as quickly as a river, until he had lost all track of his slippery foe. Occasionally he would threaten to kill Time again, but they both knew it was an empty threat; if Time didn't flow, how would Time pass? And if Time didn't pass, how would Alice return?

And yet the longer he waited, the more the Hatter retreated into the Madness of his own mind, until even the March Hare and the Dormouse were unable to pull him from it. The Tea Party he'd laid out for Alice's return went on around him, but he paid no attention. He left his seat only to use the Necessary, and sometimes when the bad Madness took him and he had to destroy something. Other than that, he sat in his chair, arms folded on his chest, head down and Hat pulled over his eyes, frozen, colorless, and Waiting.

The clearing, and the forest surrounding it, were utterly silent. The Hatter could hear every tiny stirring in the forest, including the language of the Trees, which sounded like breezes ruffling through leaves. When the Hare and the Dormouse came to visit him for tea he could hear them from miles off. So he had no trouble identifying the sound of footsteps approaching. But it wasn't Thackery or Mallymkun, he knew; the noises were coming from the wrong direction- from before him, not behind. Who in Underland would approach the table from that way? And yet, he knew the pattern of that tread…

"Hatter?"

_Be back again before you know it…_

He froze. Every muscle in his body tensed, rendering him immobile as if he hadn't been absolutely still before. Was he dreaming again, or dreaming still? Was it possible for him to be dreaming, given that he was only part of Alice's dream? Was Time or Memory or Dreams playing tricks on him, taunting him in his Madness?

Or was it possible… he couldn't even complete that thought in his own mind. He didn't want to look, in case he was merely Imagining her again; it would be too painful when the hallucination passed, as it always did. He didn't want to willingly put himself in that pain, just for the momentary pleasure of Imagining seeing her. If this was her dream, and she'd finally fallen asleep, then she'd tell him, wouldn't she? Wouldn't they know that this was her dream, and not his hallucination? Against his will, he found himself looking up.

And then he stared.

She was grown again, more so than she had been last time. No longer child or girl, she was a woman now, and what a woman she was! She hadn't lost her muchness, not at all; if anything, her muchness had increased, until she nearly glowed with the strength of it. Her golden curls were falling out of their once-elegant coiffure, she was garbed in his favorite shade of blue [there really was no more Alice color than blue, he decided for the millionth time], and she carried some sort of valise. Immediately, he decided that if this was indeed a trick of Memory or Time or Dream, he never wanted Sleep to let him go. He prayed that Alice was, in fact, Dreaming, and that she wouldn't be woken up. It was abominably selfish of him, but he never wanted her to wake up; he wanted to remain in this dream with her.

"Is it really you?" he lisped, his voice hoarse and creaky from Underland-only-knew how long a time of disuse. "I've imagined you so many times, but you always disappear… am I dreaming you again? Or are you dreaming me? Do you suppose we could be dreaming each other? Is that possible?"  
"Hatter!" Alice broke into his rambling, laughing softly. "It's really me," she stated, setting the valise at her feet. "Am I late for tea again?"

He jumped up, his entire being brightening with color. Time released its hold on him, and instead of immobility he was limberness itself as he nearly ran across the tea table to stand before her.

"Alice," he breathed, her name sweeter than honey on his tongue. "Absolutely Alice. At last. You're finally here, and you're you, muchness and all, and for once you're your right-proper-Alice-size! Not that I don't like you when you're too small or too tall, but it's much easier for you to be Absolutely Alice when you're your proper size-"  
"Hatter!" she broke off his rambling again, laughing.  
"I'm fine," he croaked, before shaking his head. "You're back? You're really here? This isn't a dream?"  
"Yes, I'm back," she nodded, taking his hands in hers and squeezing them. "I never should have thought that you were a dream. I should have known better. Forgive me, Hatter, I won't be so silly again. This isn't a dream. We're both awake, and I'm really here. I'm Home. I'm home for good, I'm not leaving again."

He drew a deep breath, pushing back his fears. Alice had said that they were both awake, that this wasn't a dream- that did mean that nothing had been a dream, didn't it? Everything truly had Happened, and no one was going to wake up and spoil this?

"Home," he whispered. "You're home? Really?"  
"Really and truly," she said solemnly. "I promise. I'm so sorry I've kept you waiting."  
"You had things to do and questions to answer," he replied, repeating what she had said to him so long ago. "But you have done those things and answered your questions, I hope?"  
"I have," Alice nodded. "And I'll tell you all about it. But first, I want you to Believe that I truly am home, and that I'm staying."  
"Anything you command, Alice," he grinned, ordering Himself to believe it. "Callooh Callay!"

He whooped with glee, then threw his arms around her, lifting her off her feet and spinning them both around, faster and faster until they were both laughing and breathless. So caught up in the moment was he that before he'd even thought of the Idea, he had leaned in, capturing her soft lips with his, and oh how good she tasted, like honey and sunshine and rebellion and Simply Alice.

His mind caught up with his mouth a moment later, and he hastily pulled away, setting her on her own two feet again.

"I do apologize," he said, his eyes darkening in anger with himself as his words began falling out of his mouth again, the Outlandish accent growing thicker with each word. "I realize we're only friends, an' I don't wish ta take advantage o' yeh, 'specially no' when yer the Queen's Champion an' Absolutely Alice besides that, an' I'm a Hatter, an' a Mad one at tha'-"  
"Tarrant!"

He stared at her, wide eyed, as he came back to himself. Never before had she used his real name- he hadn't even realized she'd known it!- but he liked how it sounded on her tongue. More than liked it, actually. He was overcome by the Wish to hear her say it again, and again after that, and possibly even again again, until he tired of it. He was quite sure he could never tire of it.

Nodding in approval at his uncharacteristic silence, Alice placed her hands on his chest, feeling the frantic tatoo of his heartbeat under her fingers. Her own pulse was beating in time with his, and while she was feeling more than a little breathless, she had never been one to be speechless. Especially not when her Most Important Questions had been answered for her in such a spectacular manner.

"I do not accept your apology, Tarrant Hightopp," she said clearly, fascinated as his eyes changed from topaz to dazzling green, then darkened to another color altogether- a cool, beautiful blue that she had never seen before but somehow understood anyways. "I do, however, demand that you kiss me again, and don't you dare stop until I'm satisfied."

He couldn't believe his Luck. But, belief or disbelief, Dream or Reality, who was he to ignore an order from His Alice? He drew her closer this time, holding her as if she might disappear as his lips descended on hers once again. He kissed her and she kissed him until they were both breathless; then they continued on without air. What need had he of air, when he could simply breathe her in? She was making such interesting sounds, anyways; his investigation of things that began with the letter M might have to be postponed for a time. Well, maybe there were some words that were worthy of his attention at the moment.

_Moan… Marvelous… Magnificent… Missed… Mate… Magic… Marriage… __**Mine**__…_

"I've missed you," she whispered when they finally, reluctantly, parted to breathe.  
"And I have missed you," he replied, fascinated by the feel of her hair beneath his fingers. "And… since you're here to stay, and since this isn't a dream…"

He swallowed hard, twitching in nervous anxiety. He pulled away from her, taking her hands in his. He hadn't planned on doing this, but suddenly he knew that if he didn't do it now, he might never ask her. And that was an Idea never, ever to be thought; the Very Worst of Bad Ideas. A surge of muchness filled him, and he charged ahead.

"I don't know how this is done in the Aboveground," he said apologetically. "Or even in other parts of Underland. But in my clan, it was done like this." He removed his beloved Hat, pulling the 10/6 card from the sash, and handed it to her. "This is my family card," he said quietly. "I want you to have it."  
She stared up at him, wide-eyed. "You want me to have your family card? Oh…" she breathed as she caught on.  
He nodded, his eyes- now burning blue- boring into hers. "I want you to be My Alice. My Alice only."  
Her face broke out into a brilliant smile. "I don't know how a Hightopp would say yes, but in the Aboveground we sometimes do it like this," she said, a moment before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again.

Normally of course, she would have given him her family card in exchange for his, but Tarrant had to admit he liked Alice's way better.

"My Alice," he whispered. "My Alice, at last."  
"My Tarrant Forever," she replied, holding him tight.  
He rested his forehead against hers. "How are proposals done in the Above?"  
"Normally, you would get on one knee, ask me to be your wife, and offer me a ring," Alice replied.  
"Well that's odd," he said, puzzled, before shrugging and getting on one knee. "My Alice At Last, will you be my wife?" he repeated, head whipping around in search of a ring before he triumphantly pulled his pincushion ring off and held it up with a winning gap-toothed smile.  
"Yes," she laughed, offering her left hand and instructing him as to which finger to put it on.

Now properly engaged both Above and Under, Alice and Tarrant turned their attention to celebrating with another of those scintillating kisses. She had, after all, ordered him not to stop until she was satisfied… Alice smiled. She was looking forward to a lifetime of Her Tarrant Forever fulfilling that demand. After five years, she was very much looking forward to her well-deserved Happily Ever After.


	2. Through the Looking Glass

**Author's Note**: I love this chapter, I must say. I love how much my girl Jane rambles; I find it adorable, as well as her little quirks [my favorite is her naming game]. I feel quite a lot of kinship with her- we're both lost in our own worlds, never quite fully in reality. I also think that Jane's personality was very much influenced by her play-by; Evanna Lynch is the actress that plays Luna Lovegood in the _Harry Potter_ series. I think that caused Jane to be a bit more daydreamy and eccentric than I meant for her to be, but I must admit I adore that about Jane.

Please enjoy the obligatory "Author depicts main character's life in England before we get to Wonderland and the part the reader actually cares about- bring on the Hatter!" chapter!

**Costume Note**: Remove all spaces.

Jane's oriental robe looks like this: http:/ www. corbisimages. com/ images/ 67/ 73 A 17132- A 4 BF- 4598- A 4 F 4- 771 CAFD 108 D 1/ IX 002407. Jpg

The baby bonnet looks like this: http:/ roses- and- teacups. com/ Bonnets/ 101_ 1586 Lavender Ecru Side 2. jpg

Jane's ballgown looks something like this: http:/ www. curatedobject. us/ .a/ 6 a 00 e 54 f 9 f 8 f 8 c 88340120 a 7 d 7 e 314970 b- 500 wi

When she changes out of her ballgown, I'm imagining her dress to be basically a replica of Alice's blue dress, but in purple. Yes, I realize that this style of dress would be 25 years out of fashion for Jane, but given that she made it in a fit of rebellion, I don't think she'd care.

**Original Character Face Claim**: As mentioned above, Jane is portrayed by Evanna Lynch. Or at least, an Evanna Lynch-like creature [delicate, dreamy features, big green eyes, long unruly reddish gold curls]. Mary Ascot is portrayed by Rachel McAdams [a la _Mean Girls_]. Lottie Devereaux is portrayed by Emma Stone. Witzend the kitten is portrayed by this bit of adorable: http:/ 5 clans. webs. com/ cute- grey- kitten. jpg

**Naming Game Note**: Elaine comes from Arthurian legend, especially as pertains to Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem _The Lady of Shallot_. The Queen of Sheba is a biblical reference.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I realize the Jabberwocky poem reads a bit differently in the Burton movie. However, I used the full version as it's seen in _Through the Looking Glass_, for reasons best left unexplained if you don't want me to give away bits of the story I'd rather let you work out for yourself.

Similiarly, yes, I am insinuating that the book Jane is reading is basically Carroll's works, even though I attribute it to other sources. Because I thought that was funny.

**Special Beta Thanks**: Thanks to Jiffie for assuring me that Jane was [so far at least] a believable character.

_

* * *

25 Years Later—_

Ascot Manor was alive and buzzing with excited activity. Servants bustled through the halls, vigorously scrubbing silverware and polishing already perfect stair rails, chasing down every invisible fleck of dust and making the manor shine. The guests who had already arrived floated through the halls, amusing themselves with games of Blindman's Bluff and Hunt the Slipper, or an excursion to sketch the ruined abbey in Allentown, the village connected to the estate. Overseeing them all was Lady Agnes Ascot, a long list in hand as she ordered everyone about in preparation for this evening.

Lord Ascot was due home today. He had spent over a year in India [not including travel time], expanding the Company's well-established holdings and strengthening the Company's ties with their Indian trade partners. A week-long house party had been arranged to welcome him home, as was Lady Ascot's tradition. Ever since Lord Ascot had first purchased the Company, nearly thirty years ago now, he had been traveling all over the world. And every time he came home, Lady Ascot threw him an elaborate welcoming party, which some joked only drove Lord Ascot to leave again.

Currently, Lady Ascot had thrown herself into her favorite pastime— ordering everyone around— with gusto, in an attempt to forget her misgivings about the party. From what Lord Ascot had said in his letters, he was planning on announcing his retirement from the Company at the ball this evening. He was expected to turn the reins over— not to his son, but to Andrew Manning, who had taken over Alice Kingsleigh's role with the Company after the flighty thing had run off. Andrew had arrived at the manor yesterday, with his wife Margaret, his mother-in-law Helen Kingsleigh, and his children, including his son-in-law Etienne Devereaux.

Miffed as she had been that Mr. Manning had supplanted Hamish as heir to the Company, Lady Ascot had done her duty and graciously shown the Manning family to their rooms. She was rather surprised to see Helen; after all, it had been from Ascot Manor that Helen's younger daughter Alice had disappeared twenty-five years ago. A packet of letters had been found by the base of the ancient oak tree, explaining that Alice loved them all very much but that she would never return to England again, that they shouldn't worry about her and she was safe and happy. Despite the best efforts of Scotland Yard and the private investigator Lord Ascot had hired, no trace of Alice had ever been found. Lady Ascot couldn't say that she was surprised; she had always known that Alice was flighty and given to whims of fancy. She had probably taken up with some lowborn tradesman and run off with him.

Shaking her head, Lady Ascot turned and went inside to confer with the cook about the menu for the midnight supper. There was no use in crying over spilled milk or in reminiscing about what could not be changed. Richard would announce his retirement tonight, Agnes would play the gracious hostess, and with any luck offers would be made for both her granddaughter and her ward. Compared with these events, memories of the past meant nothing.

* * *

The world could have come crashing down around her ears, and she would have paid no mind.

Thus was the opinion currently being not-so-softly proclaimed by twenty-year-old Lady Mary Ascot to her especial friends, nineteen-year-old Emily Smythe and twenty-five-year-old Alice Charlotte Devereaux, nee Manning, as they sat huddled together in the very back of the spacious rowboat. The opinion pertained to the young lady sitting by herself in the very front of the dinghy. Said young lady spoke nothing in response to Mary; in fact, she made no signs that she had heard her 'cousin.' Currently, her pale-complected face was upturned, and she was staring up at the clouds with an expression that Mary spitefully called her 'cow face' [though Alice Charlotte, universally known as Lottie, called it her 'Rapturous Daydreaming Eyes'].

Jane, as Mary loved to remind her, wasn't a true Ascot at all. She was a foundling, left as a baby on the Ascots' front steps when she was approximately six months old. Likely the child of a disgraced maid or charwoman after a tumble in the hay with an undergroom, Mary often sneered [an opinion learned at the knee of her grandmother]. Lady Ascot would have sent the child to an orphanage immediately, but her kindly husband had inexplicably insisted upon keeping the babe. So the child was taken in as a ward, to be a cousin and companion to Hamish Ascot's daughter Mary. To Lady Ascot's consternation and bewilderment, Jane had been treated as a full and equal member of the family, given just as strident an education as Mary. Lord Ascot had even provided for the foundling in his will and assured her a handsome dowry when the time came for her to marry, as though she were his own flesh and blood.

However, just at the moment, Jane wasn't thinking about her tenuous status within the Ascot household, nor about Mary's snide comment, nor even about the impending party where her foster mother was sure to matchmake. Her mind was firmly focused on the pictures she could see within the clouds. There was a rabbit cavorting with a rhinocerous… and there, a Pegasus breathing fire… and why, that one looked exactly like a tophat with a sash dancing around its brim!

Jane had always known she was different from her family, even before she had learned that she was a foundling. True, Hamish also had red hair, but only Jane had green eyes. Only Jane had the imagination to see pictures in the clouds, or to work out entire conversations between flowers. When she was younger, she had even dreamed up an elaborate fantasy that her real parents would come for her, announce that she was a princess, and whisk her away to a magical kingdom. She had long ago given up hope that her parents would ever come for her, and she knew that she was no princess, but even now at age eighteen her Wonderland was as real to her as it had ever been. Whenever real life became too tedious or oppressive, she was off to her adventures again, slaying monsters and dancing with talking animals.

Perhaps she should escape to Wonderland tonight, she thought. Instead of dancing the odious quadrille with less than inspiring specimens of potential husbands, she could be off getting rescued from dragons by dashing knights, or dancing a waltz with a prince. Or, if she'd rather not engage in those mundane activities, perhaps she could be a gallant knight like Don Quixote.

"Jane!"

With a small gasp, Jane was forcibly torn from her imaginings by the forceful voice of her foster mother. Blinking, Jane realized that the rowboat had landed, and everyone else had disembarked. How long had they been there? From the way everyone was staring at her, apparently quite a while. Oh dear, had any of her internal monologue been spoken aloud? She had a regrettable tendency to ramble on uncontrollably until she was called back to herself… A rosy blush covering her cheeks, she scrambled out of the dinghy and meekly walked to Lady Ascot.

"Where's your head, girl?" the elder woman hissed before turning and heading up the lawn.

Jane sighed as she followed in the wake of the others; ah, the eternal question of her youth. The query that plagued her, followed her through every adventure, every awkward moment Jane inadvertently caused by being so very different.

Mary stared at Jane for a moment before giggling and turning to whisper in Emily's ear. Jane bent her head, a dull flush staining her pale cheeks. Mary was always very much amused by Jane's unintentional gaffes. She could be quite cruel with her ridicule when she chose to be, and Jane was certain that Mary would mock her later, when Lady Ascot wasn't nearby to insist upon decorum.

For a single moment, Jane wondered if her parents would have been as impatient with her imagination. Or would they have understood? She liked to think that they would have understood, even encouraged her daydreams. Quickly, she shied away from the painful subject. Her questions were profitless; she would never know her parents. Because whatever her parents had been like, whatever their beliefs, they had still abandoned her. They had left her on the Ascots' doorstep and walked away from her, and she would never know them.

The black hole of her parents was agonizing; she often wished that she had just one bit of proof of their existence besides the simple fact that she lived and breathed. She didn't know anything about them; not their names or what they looked like, or even what they had meant to call her. Lady Ascot had been the one to name her Jane, and she'd never felt like the name fit her. It had led to one of her favorite games as a child—Who Am I Today?, or the Naming Game. She had always been a voracious reader, and if she found a name in her stories that she liked, she would try it on for size. As she'd gotten older, she'd learned that her foster family didn't appreciate her games [except her foster father; Lord Ascot had always been rather amused by her imagination], so she had kept it to herself, like all her other flights of fancy. Currently, for example, she was Elaine, because she'd been floating on the water like the Lady of Shalott… just not as tragically.

"Jane, Lord Ascot is waiting in his study to speak with you." Lady Ascot said in clipped tones. "The rest of you, off to your rooms. The ball will begin in two hours, and I expect all of you," she fixed her gaze on Jane again, who tended to be late unless it was tea time, "to be on time and properly dressed."

Ignoring Mary's and Emily's snickers, Jane hurried towards the impressive mansion where she'd lived all her life, except for those two years in India. Refusing to see the painful blandness of the house—the dull portraits of dull Ascot ancestors, even duller stands of suits of armor, and complete lack of color—she hurried up the grand staircase to the second floor, turning to the left and following the long hallway down to the end of the west wing, before knocking on the door to Lord Ascot's study.

"Come in, my Queen of Sheba."

Smiling at his nickname for her [chosen because she was constantly seeking knowledge and wisdom], Jane opened the door and slipped inside. She was greeted by the comforting scents of old books, cognac, and worn leather. Lord Ascot was sitting, not behind his desk, but before the empty fireplace, a welcoming smile on his face as he stood and opened his arms, into which Jane obligingly ran.

"Welcome home, Papa Richard."

Richard Ascot smiled, holding his foster daughter close to him. Though he would never say so, Jane was the child of his heart. His son had always been a useless dandy, a nitwit, and a mama's boy; his granddaughter was spoiled and only affectionate when she wanted presents, even though she was twenty years of age and should be past such childish fits. But his Jane… she had hungered for a father, and he had missed having a daughter since Alice Kingsleigh's disappearance. Jane even reminded him somewhat of Alice; the same spirit, the same endless imagination and ceaseless questions. Richard smiled to himself as he settled back into his armchair and Jane sat on the ground beside him, folding her hands on his knee and resting her chin on her interlaced fingers. What a blessing Jane was to his old heart, he thought, as he absently stroked her unruly ginger curls, which they both preferred hanging loosely down her back.

"And who are you today, my Queen?" he asked gravely, though he smiled.  
"Elaine, for now," she replied, "and you are always my Solomon. Did you go to Bombay again?"  
"Of course, Lady Elaine,." he smiled, as a footman walked in, wheeling a tea cart with him. "I have new teas for you."  
She smiled delightedly, "You spoil me."  
"Of course I do." he said indulgently. "And if you tell me enough stories, I'll buy you a new hat."

Tea and hats, Jane's two weaknesses. Thus bribed, she launched into her stories—tales of what had actually gone on under the Ascots' roof, mixed in with the more persistent of her daydreams and flights of fancy. In reply, Papa Richard took her on a journey to Bombay and Calcutta, Agra and Mangalore, as if they hadn't written each other letters nearly every day since his departure. They spent a pleasant hour thus engaged, and disappointment was evident on Jane's face when the clock chimed five o'clock.

"I have to go get dressed for the ball." She said reluctantly.  
"You might as well hop to it, then, m'girl," Lord Ascot said, "you won't want to be late."

Sighing, Jane stood, kissed her foster father on the cheek, and headed up another flight of stairs to the third floor, walking down the hallway to her own room. The rest of the family had their sleeping quarters on the second floor, as well as Lady Ascot's morning parlor, Mary's den, and Lord Ascot's study. But Jane had long ago become enamoured with this small suite of southern-facing rooms, and Lord Ascot had ordered them renovated for her. As opposed to the rest of the house and Lady Ascot's bland decorations, Jane's rooms were a riot of color—apple green silk on the walls with cream and gold trim, accent fabrics of sky blue and blush pink with dashes of sunny yellow. Mother Agnes had been scandalized; Papa Richard delighted. This suite was Jane's retreat from her family, the one place where she was free to lose herself in her imaginings without fear of reproof.

She locked the door behind her, thankful that she still had an hour to herself before the ball began. This year was Jane's debut into Society; she would be put on display as eligible for matrimony, like a heifer going to auction. Her every movement, word, and attribute would be observed, weighed, and torn down, and if she made a single mistake Lady Ascot would have her head. How she wished she could just stay up here in her own lovely room, instead of having to endure this ball…

Alas, she could not. She knew very well that now that she was eighteen, Lady Ascot would bend all of her considerable energy towards getting her married. Well, if she only had an hour, she was going to make the most of it. Hurrying to her closet, Jane grabbed a plain ballgown the color of oatmeal and threw it on the bed. She often despaired of the clothes Lady Ascot had made for her; well-made and tasteful the gowns might be, as suited a young lady of quality, but she swore her foster mother was allergic to color. She'd come to absolutely loathe the color white and all its infinitely boring shades. Ah well, Papa Richard always came to her rescue, bringing her pretty colored sashes and ribbons and pieces of jewelry. Tonight, she would wear the set of emerald necklace, bracelet, and earrings he had brought her from India. They were tastefully expensive, which would please Mother Ascot, and they brought out her green eyes, which would please Papa Richard.

Muttering to herself in despair, Jane tossed two petticoats and a clean chemise over the ballgown. She was just stepping to her dressing table to comb her unruly hair when a small, distressed-sounding mewing made her pause. She glanced over her shoulder, laughing softly when she saw a furry face sticking out from beneath the dress.

"I'm sorry, Witzend," she purred, rescuing her kitten from the dress that had covered it.

Jane had rescued the grey and white kitten with eyes as green as her own from being drowned when it was discovered in the stables two months ago. Lady Ascot and Mary hadn't been very keen on Jane keeping the 'little beast', as they called it, but once the kitchen developed a mouse problem the feline proved her worth. She'd earned her unusual name because the kitten was just as odd and inquisitive as her mistress; Lady Ascot swore the kitten drove her to her wit's end. Jane had giggled, imagining what kind of place the end of one's wits might be like; she had promptly added the place to the borders of her Wonderland. Witzend must be the most wonderful place in the kingdom, aside from her parents' palace, she had decided. The most delightfully mad people would all live there, and she could host tea parties that lasted for days. They would play Musical Chairs and juggle their scones, and no one would think it the least bit odd when she saw pictures in the clouds.

The mewing of her kitten jerked Jane out of her daydreams. Sighing, she set Witzend down in her basket, scratching behind the cat's ears. Stripping out of the bone-colored day dress she'd worn on the water, Jane wrapped herself in a robe that was a riot of colors—an Oriental garment that had been a birthday present from Papa Richard a few years ago. Well, it wasn't really her birthday; they had no idea when she had actually been born. Since she had been found on the Ascots' steps on June 18, they declared that her birthday. In her mind, Jane referred to it as her un-birthday; her true birthday must have been sometime in December, if she had been six months old when she was found. Shrugging, Jane spun around, admiring her robe. Of course it looked somewhat silly atop her chemise, corset, and petticoats, but at least the silken garments had colors.

Kneeling at the foot of her bed, Jane unlocked the cedar chest where she kept all the things she didn't want her foster family to touch. A soft smile touching her lips, she pulled out an old book, bound with leather, the pages edged in gold. This book was her newest treasure. One day, a few weeks ago, Jane and Witzend had gone to rummage through the attic during a long, rainy afternoon. It had been an angry, miserable rain, not at all the comfortable sort of curl-up-in-a-chair-with-a-book rain. Once upon a time when she was younger, Jane had spent many an afternoon having adventures in the attic; fighting off monsters, playing dress up, and dreaming. Since Lady Ascot had been working on her embroidery and Mary had for once been at her own home with her parents, Jane had happily gone to the attic to see what she could discover.

She had found a small box shoved in a corner, her name written on the lid. Inside had been a wicker basket, a filmy blue blanket, a matching blue baby bonnet trimmed with lace and seed pearls, and this book—_Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. After a moment's thought, she had deduced that these articles must have been found with her as an infant, and she had carried the box down to her room to hold and cherish and wonder about. The book especially was a treasure. She had wanted to race through it, but she forced herself to read slowly, to savor every word. Why had her parents tucked this book into the basket with her? What messages had they wished to convey to her? She read the stories over and over, determined to solve the book's mysteries.

Fingering the delicate, inricate beadwork on the brim of the bonnet, Jane smiled sadly. The materials used—the finest silk, genuine pearls, intricate lacework—suggested someone wealthy had owned this, putting to rest the theory that Jane was the daughter of a disgraced maid and a poor tradesman. The level of skill and love in the craftsmanship was obvious. The blanket and bonnet had been made for a beloved child. But if she had been so treasured, and if her parents had had the means to buy her such beautiful things, why had she been abandoned? Pushing aside the depressing thoughts, she settled down to read.

_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe. _

_"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!  
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!  
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun  
The frumious Bandersnatch!"_

_He took his vorpal sword in hand:  
Long time the manxome foe he sought -  
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,  
And stood awhile in thought._

_And, as in uffish thought he stood,  
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,  
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,  
And burbled as it came!_

_One, two! One, two! And through and through  
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!  
He left it dead, and with its head  
He went galumphing back._

_"And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?  
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!  
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'  
He chortled in his joy._

_`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe. _

She smiled to herself as she re-read the poem she had memorized; what beautiful nonsense. Most people would dismiss the poem as complete rubbish, and would object to the large number of made-up words. But it all made perfect sense to Jane, as if it were another language she alone understood. The picture was so clear in her mind— the beautiful, heroic Alice battling and defeating the terrifying Jabberwocky. Jane shivered; where had Alice ever found the courage to face such a monster? Shaking her head, she smiled; leave it to her to feel more kinship for a fictional character than for anyone in her own world.

Tilting her head, she tried Alice's name on for size. It was a lovely name, strong and beautiful as its bearer was sure to be. From what Jane had heard from her Papa Richard, an apprentice he had once had— Alice Kingsleigh, daughter of Charles Kingsleigh, who had founded the company which Papa Richard now owned— had been the very most Alice-est of Alices. Alice Kingsleigh, and the Alice in her book, both deserved the name. It was the name of a heroine, a right proper name for the Slayer of the Jabberwocky or the girl who had taken over her father's company. But for her it would not do. She didn't have Alice's… what did the book call it? Her muchness. Anyone who wanted to bear the name Alice must have oh so very much muchness, and Jane did not. She was just… Jane. Just Jane.

The chiming of the clock, tolling fifteen-till-six, broke through her reverie. Sighing, Jane slid off the bed, reciting the poem to herself as she hurried into her dress. Her voice changed easily between accents— her native British, Spanish, Indian, French, before settling on a vaguely Scottish brogue. She shivered; strange how much more menacing the poem sounded, when spoken with a Scottish burr.

Wrenching herself from her daydreams, again, with an effort, Jane sat before her vanity table to force her unruly curls into a coif that would meet with Lady Ascot's approval. Finally, she deemed herself as ready as she'd ever be, and hurried downstairs as she slid her hands into elegant elbow-length gloves.

* * *

She had to admit, she loved dancing; especially the lovely, lilting waltz. Jane had always loved dancing. When she was a little girl, still too young to attend any parties, she had danced on her own in the gardens, often making up dances when she grew bored with the ones Papa Richard had taught her on the sly. Now that she was older, she could dance the entire night away. She may have no desire to be a debutante or a bride, but she was more than happy to dance as long as the musicians played. Music was an especial sort of magic to her; the melodies would hold her spellbound, and she would feel something stirring deep within her, a part of her that longed to merge with the music and lose all sense of herself.

If only her dancing partners weren't quite so boring. She had hoped that the fact that she was a foundling of unknown parentage would drive away the vast majority of suitors. Unfortunately, Lady Ascot had too much influence over the _ton_. Ward she may be, but Jane was still of the House of Ascot, with a generous dowry and the assurance of alliance with the aristocracy. Hence, Jane found herself the object of nearly every eligible bachelor in the room— quite to the annoyance of Mary, who had found herself more than once left on the sidelines without a dance partner. Lady Ascot would no doubt be pleased by the impression Jane was making; after all, the sooner Jane had married, the sooner she was no longer Lady Ascot's responsibility or problem.

Nobody had come to claim her for this dance. Instead of sitting with the other unclaimed ladies, Jane had slipped into the hall to dance with herself— not one of her more lively made-up dances, but another bout of waltzing. Humming along with the music, she dreamed up a partner for herself. An inhabitant of Wonderland, of course; no citizen of London was good enough to invade her daydreaming. He was a King, his bearing regal and dignified without being pompous or stiff. He was impeccably garbed in black trousers and tailcoat with black shoes so shiny she could see her reflection in them; his shirt, cravat and gloves were spotlessly white, his vest the same green as her emeralds. He wore no crown on his head; he didn't need one. One needed only to look at him to see that he was royalty. He shared her pale complection and green eyes, and he held her warmly and protectively, smiling down on her proudly as they twirled and spun through the hallway. Her companion was perfectly familiar to her; she imagined she was dancing with him during every ball she attended.

"Good evening, Father," she murmured, smiling up at him, "I'm so happy you could make it; I've missed you. Were you and Mother off in Witzend again? Did you host a tea party there, just the two of you? I wish I could have joined you."

Sudden snickering made her gasp and whip around to see Mary and her toadies watching.

"I told you," Mary smirked, "talking to herself again and dancing with a figment of her imagination! She's quite as mad as Alice Kingsleigh was!"

Jane fisted her skirts, feeling her face turn red with suppressed anger and embarrassment, but an unlikely champion appeared in the form of Lottie Devereaux, who stomped her dancing slipper and glared at Mary, hands on her hips.

"I would remind you, Mary, thatAlice Kingsleigh was my aunt, and my namesake," she said, her voice quivering in anger, "and there are still some who love and miss her, more than anyone would ever miss you."

Turning on her heel, Lottie ignored the amazed Mary, instead threading her arm through Jane's and leading her away.

"You shouldn't take what Mary said as an insult." She confided, leaning her head towards Jane's as if they were equal in age, instead of Lottie being five-and-twenty and married. "My mother told me that her father always said the best people are mad, and since my Aunt Alice was quite a bit more mad than most, I'd consider it an honor to be compared to her."  
"You're very kind." Jane said, a small smile on her face as she looked at the older girl. "Your Aunt Alice was my Papa Richard's apprentice, wasn't she?"  
"Yes indeed, she was the one who arranged the Company's trade routes with China." Lottie said proudly.  
"She sounds like a wonderful woman." Jane replied.  
"Oh, she was," Lottie smiled, "I wish I had had the chance to know her; she disappeared when my mother was expecting me, you see."

It didn't take any more prodding for Lottie to share all kinds of amazing stories with Jane— how Aunt Alice had believed in six Impossible Things before breakfast, how Aunt Alice had believed that flowers and animals could talk, that she had written down stories of a place called Wonderland for her sister Margaret to read aloud to her babies— Lottie, and later, her younger brothers James and Richard, and her younger sister Helena.

Jane blinked, "Wonderland? Not… not _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_?"  
"Why, yes," Lottie said, surprised, "my grandmother had the stories published. They're quite popular children's books, I understand; how do you know of it?"  
"I found a copy of it in the attic a few weeks ago." Jane said, stunned. "To think, I can read your Aunt Alice's stories!"

Jane was astounded, Alice Kingsleigh had had a Wonderland— a kingdom every bit as magical as Jane's own Wonderland. Her Alice wasn't a fictional character after all, but a real flesh-and-blood girl that Jane understood and could relate to! She felt a strange affinity for Alice, as if she were discovering a long-lost friend. Moreover, Jane's birth parents had left her with a copy of Alice Kingsleigh's stories; why? What message had they been trying to leave her? She peppered Lottie with questions, hungry for every bit of knowledge she could get about her new heroine. Along the way, the girls merely began to talk, Lottie sensing the great void in Jane's life caused by lack of friendship and instinctively trying to fill it.

Unfortunately, Jane and Lottie's talk was truncated when Jane spied Lady Ascot approaching, a look of firm determination on her face. Appropriating Jane's hand with ease, she marched her ward onto the dance floor, where another uninspiring specimen of boy-passing-as-man waited for her. Recognizing Lady Ascot's matchmaking ways, Jane gritted her teeth, determined to endure this dance before making her escape.

That proved to be easier said than done; Lord Whatever-His-Name-Was was pompous, ignorant, and boring, so thoroughly convinced that Jane was flattered by his condescending to dance with her that he spoke of nothing but his own virtues. Jane suppressed a groan; why did this have to be a quadrille? The dance went on and on, seemingly without end, by the time it was finally over, she was beginning to fear she'd gone quite, quite mad.

The second his back was turned, Jane bolted. She left the ballroom as quickly as she could and rushed upstairs, locking her bedroom door behind her. That stupid ballroom filled with insipid people who cared about meaningless things and had not one iota of imagination or muchness between them…!

Snarling, Jane flew headlong into one of what Lady Ascot called her 'temper tantrums', and which everyone else referred to as one of her 'fits'. Her fits had been cause for much concern when Jane was younger; Lady Ascot had been firmly convinced that Jane was a lunatic, a condition she must have inherited from her parents. No wonder they'd abandoned her, if they had been mad! She ripped off her bland dress, snatched the hairpins out of her tresses, and yanked off her corset, throwing them any-which-way.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and glared. She looked half-wild, her hair flying about her face and her eyes snapping hazel with anger, but she didn't care. Frowning, she ripped open the doors to her armoire and took out her favorite dress— plum colored, she'd made it herself in a fit of rebellion against her foster mother's phobia of color— and exchanged her delicate dancing shoes for her sturdy sky blue half-boots. Tying a sky-blue sash around her waist, she sank onto her bed, gathering Witzend and her book into her arms. Desperately, she wished for a way to disappear, if only for a while; to escape her bland, boring existence where she was treated like a pariah, suitable only to be married off to the highest bidder.

What she wouldn't give to fall into Wonderland right now, she thought ruefully. She could find Alice, and together they could explore every inch of their fantasy world. They could talk to the flowers, and go on grand adventures; perhaps Alice could even help her find the castle where her parents were waiting for her, and she could meet her father and dance with him…

Jane scoffed at herself, she had believed she was past the age where she could dream about meeting her parents. She would never find them; and if they were alive, they certainly weren't royalty. Her father wasn't a handsome, dashing King, and she would never join Alice in Wonderland. She was doomed to remain here, to be married off to a stuffy unimaginative aristocrat that she would not love, forever trapped in a colorless, lackluster world... It made her want to scream. How she longed to escape…

A flicker of movement caused Jane's gaze to snap to the looking glass over her vanity table. Odd, there was no one else in the room with her, and she hadn't moved… Clutching the sleeping Witzend to her chest, she walked to the mirror, reaching out to touch the surface and make sure she was imaginging it.

Her fingers passed right through the mirror.

She gasped, yanked her fingers back, and stared. Then, overcome with curiosity, she slipped her hand back in. How amazing; how was this possible? The viscous material was neither solid nor liquid; it flowed around her, thicker than water but thinner than pudding. She was entranced by the substance; it looked like mercury, and was just as fluid.

She started when she heard footsteps coming down the hall, dismayed when she recognized the tread as Lady Ascot. She didn't want her foster mother to drag her back down to the ball to pair her off with some high and mighty lord… She made her decision quickly. Slipping her baby bonnet between the pages of her book and wrapping her book in her baby blanket to protect it against the fluid of the mirror, she scooped up her treasures, made sure she had a good grip on Witzend, and clambered onto her vanity table, boldly stepping through the looking glass.


	3. A Quest

**Author's Note**: First of all, a note about updates. Due to my stressful work schedule [I'm working two jobs, and work seven days a week currently], I usually don't have the time or energy to post. So I've decided to suspend updating this story until after March 06. THIS IS NOT A HIATUS. This story is completely written and finished; I just don't have the time to post right now. After March 06, one of my jobs will be over, and I'll be back to posting as usual. This story is not being abandoned, merely temporarily delayed.

Now then. This is a shorter chapter than the previous two, but I think I make up for that with the fact that this is the chapter where the adventure starts. Jane gets her marching orders, and from here on out it'll be high adventure and secret-solving with only occasional stops for exposition and character building. Enjoy!

**Kitty Note**: Yes, I did do research to find the names of Dinah's offspring. And yes, I did screw canon over and say that Dinah came to Wonderland with Alice at one point. Yes, I did have a reason for this, and yes, it will become apparent in later chapters [and yes, it will have relevance to the plot].

**Disclaimer**: The mention of Charybdis comes from Homer's _Odyssey_.

There's a bit of dialogue between Jane and the Underlandians that's inspired by a scene from _Anne of Green Gables_. So if that scene sounds familiar, don't summon L.M. Montgomery's ghost to haunt me.

**Dialogue Disclaimer**: I stole some lines of dialogue from the Burton movie- pretty much because it's easier to steal the Tweedles' manner of speaking than to try and replicate it. However, as this is fanfic, my twisted illogic says that it's perfectly alright to steal it since it's for fanfic-making purposes.

**OOC Disclaimer**: Yes, Mally is rather out of character, but that's something I actually meant to happen, so no apologies for it. It's been 25 years in the Aboveground since the events of the Burton movie, and Absolem-only-knows how long in Underland, so Mally's had quite a lot of Time to adapt to circumstances. Hence the concerns that she wouldn't have shown in the movie.

**Special Beta Thanks**: I was a little unhappy about the short length of this chapter, so thanks to Jiffie for reminding me that it's okay for this one to be short. Since there's really nothing else that can be said or done until we get the adventure underway.

* * *

It was as though she had dived into the Ascots' lake fully clothed, and was plummeting down, down, down, pulled by some invisible force stronger than her own will. Was this how Greek sailors had felt when they were sucked into Charybdis the whirlpool? Though, being pulled through the looking glass was a good deal more peaceful than Homer's descriptions of Charybdis, and she felt no overwhelming terror, only the force of the alien force propelling her forward.

The silvery liquid of the looking glass was cool to the touch, rather like water, except it didn't seep into her clothes and soak her. Oddly enough, she was also able to breathe unimpeded, as if the silvery substance wasn't even there. Jane couldn't tell if she was moving up, down, or sideways; the liquid propelled her along following a path or pattern of its own discerning. Curious, she reached out to touch it, fascinated at its cool and slippery feel. It looked very much like mercury. She had seen a hatter in London once, curing fabric with the silvery liquid. Was mercury involved in the construction of mirrors? And if this was mercury she was swimming through… Oh goodness, she could become quite as mad as the Mad Hatter in her book. But, she reflected as she held Witzend and her blanket-covered book closer, it might be quite fun to be mad.

Before she had time to reflect upon this idea further, her head broke through the unforeseen surface of the silvery liquid, followed by her shoulders and part of her torso. She blinked, looking down, surprised to find no droplets of silvery substance dripping off of her or staining her lovely plum-colored dress. As a matter of fact, the silvery substance had disappeared, as though it had never been there at all, as though she had merely seeped up between the pores of the stone she now sat on.

After a moment's inspection, Jane determined that she was sitting in a crumbling old fountain, set in an overgrown garden under a stormy-looking sky. Setting Witzend and her book on the edge of the fountain, she leaned down and pressed against the very solid surface of the stone. But if the fountain was solid stone, how had she broken through it…?

"Come now, my Lady, we hardly came here for you to sit in a decrepit old fountain like a gaping fish."

Jane gasped, jerking her head up and looking around, puzzled when she saw no one from whom the voice could have come.

"Hello?" she called hesitantly.  
"Down here!"

Jane glanced down, then stared confusedly at Witzend. Her little kitten sat primly on the ledge, looking altogether too pleased with herself as she delicately licked at one paw.

"Witzend?" she breathed. "Did you just…?"  
"Of course, who else?" her kitten replied, inclining her head. "And it's such a relief to speak at last! I have wanted to talk with you for such a very long time; though, you've always been quite good at guessing what I was going to say anyways, my Lady."  
Jane blinked. "'My Lady'? Witzend, my name is Jane."  
To her surprise, her kitten snorted, the noise somehow sounding delicate. "'Jane', indeed! If your name is truly 'Jane' I'll never catch another mouse again."  
"Well… I suppose it's not really my name, at least not what my parents meant to call me. At least, I hope not," Jane conceded. "Still, I wish you wouldn't call me 'my Lady'. It's far too formal, and now that you can talk I'd like for us to be friends."  
"We are friends, and always shall be," Witzend mewed. "But very well, I won't call you 'my Lady'. Will 'Mistress' suffice?"  
"If you must," Jane shrugged. "Though just at the moment, I feel rather like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole."

"Hmph! Alice, indeed." Came a snooty voice.  
"Why, it's clear as day she's no Alice." came another.  
"Not At All Alice, that's what she is." Said a third. "The nerve, popping up out of that fountain and pretending to be Our Alice!"

"Excuse me?" Jane asked, clambering out of the fountain and looking around. "Who said that?"  
"The Flowers, of course," Witzend said, prancing beside her mistress before looking disdainfully at the flowers. "Remarkably stupid things, Flowers; why, they can't even smell—!"

But here, Witzend abruptly cut herself off, as though she feared saying anything more. Instead, she plopped down and resumed thoroughly cleaning herself. Puzzled by her kitten's suddenly enigmatic behavior, Jane turned, taking in her surroundings clearly for the first time. Flowers stared at her avidly, some with suspicion, others with curiosity; like dowagers observing debutantes in a ballroom. A green pig scooted ahead before her, screeching loudly, while overhead a dragonfly and a rockinghorsefly brayed at each other. The more Jane stared, the more unbelievable it all seemed, and yet, how familiar…

"Can it be possible?" she breathed. "Have I really fallen into my Wonderland?"

Witzend smiled to herself secretly, hiding her grin behind her paw. The whispers started in earnest as Jane turned round and round, arms flung out to her sides as she laughed and spun, trying to see everything at once.

"Did you hear that? She called it Wonderland…"  
"Our Alice used to call it that…"  
"How did the Not At All Alice know that?"  
"Do you see her hair?"  
"And her eyes?"  
"You know who had eyes like that…"  
"You know who had hair like that…"  
"You don't think she could be…"  
"She couldn't possibly be…"  
"Could she?"

"Now then, what's all this fuss?"

Jane turned again, letting out a soft exclamation of surprise when she saw that she was no longer the only creature in the garden. Before her stood a white rabbit in a blue waistcoat holding a watch in one paw; a tiny dormouse who looked at her suspiciously, one hand on the hatpin that served her as a sword; two identical roly-poly boys in striped shirts; and a stately looking dodo bird. Jane stared at them all in shock.

"I see the welcoming party has arrived," Witzend purred complacently.  
"No," Jane breathed. "I can't believe it; could you really be here? Am I just dreaming this? I've had an awful lot of dreams like this, and I was reading the book earlier… Am I really in my Wonderland, or is this Alice's Wonderland? Or do you think they could be the very same Wonderland? And how did I get here without the drink that makes you shrink—"  
"Mistress!" Witzend called, sounding partly amused, faintly exasperated.  
"Thank you," Jane croaked, shaking her head, "I'm fine."

Upon watching this stranger's ramble and recovery, the Dormouse and the White Rabbit exchanged astonished glances; only one other person in all of Underland carried out rants like that… The twin boys shifted, puzzled expressions on their identical faces.

"Is that being…?" one began.  
"Nah, not a bit, no." the other said.  
"Contrariwise, I believe it so," the first retorted.  
"But I don't see it being."  
"Well, if she was she might be-"  
"But if she isn't, she ain't."  
"Unless she is bein'."  
"That bein' another thing entirely."  
"That's logic," they finished together.

During this exchange, Jane had stared at them all for a moment before rushing to the edge of the fountain for her book. She flipped feverishly through the pages, comparing descriptions and pictures to what stood before her, before she squealed in glee.

"It _is_ you!" she exclaimed, bouncing in excitement and clapping her hands. "You're Nivens McTwisp, the White Queen's Page! And you're Mallymkun, and the Tweedles, and you're Sir Uilleam!"  
"'ow d'ye know all that?" Mallymkun asked, hand on her hatpin.  
"Why, it's all here," Jane said, holding up her book, "Alice Kingsleigh wrote these stories, but I never imagined they were real—"  
"Alice!" McTwisp exclaimed, twitching. "Our Alice wrote that?"  
"Of course," Uilleam said gravely. "Don't you remember, Nivens? It was written before the Catahoribus Day; it must have made its way Aboveground."

Jane blinked in confusion as everyone's faces dropped and grew grave at the mention of Catahoribus Day. Nothing had been said of the Catahoribus Day in her book; had some new horror befallen Wonderland?

"Now that we have all been thoroughly introduced, do you suppose we could leave the garden and go somewhere else, Mistress?" Witzend mewed.  
"Not so fast," Mallymkun said, frowning at Witzend as she drew her hatpin.  
"Yes, yes, we can't just allow you to go traipsing about Underland. You seem to know us, but who are you?" McTwisp asked, twitching nervously.  
"And more important, why's Underland lettin' Abovegrounders down 'ere again?" Mally asked grumpily. "Nothin' but trouble, Abovegrounders."  
"I am Witzend," Jane's kitten stated.

Another surprised glance passed between McTwisp and Mallymkun; now why had this great galumphing Aboveground girl named her Cat after that particular place?

"And you are, my dear?" Uilleam asked.  
"Of course, how silly of me," Jane said, "my name is Jane, but for now, would you call me Alice?"  
"Why would we call ye that?" Mally frowned.  
"Well, you see, it's a game I play with myself," Jane confessed, but strangely she didn't feel any embarrassment about it at all, "I try names on for size, and 'Alice' is such a very muchy name; I feel very much like Alice just now, since I've ended up in Wonderland at last."  
"No one here will call you by that name, I'm afraid," McTwisp said. "You see, it belongs to Our Alice."  
"Alice… you can't mean _this_ Alice?" Jane asked, holding up her book. "The Alice that slew the Jabberwocky?"  
"Yes, exactly that Alice!" McTwisp nodded. "Alice Kingsleigh of London, Champion of Underland, Slayer of the Jabberwocky, Keeper of the Vorpal Sword."  
Her jaw dropped, eyes wide in shock. "Alice Kingsleigh?" she choked. "But… But Alice disappeared from London twenty-five years ago…"  
The Dodo inclined his head, "She disappeared from the Aboveground, and returned Home."  
Jane stared down at her book, "Then… this isn't a _story_ at all. It's all real. My… My Wonderland has been real all this time."

Jane looked up from her book, then gazed around with awe-filled eyes. Here she was, in her very own Wonderland, only to find that her Wonderland was in fact The Alice's Wonderland! What a wonderful thought! Was it possible that everything in Jane's Wonderland was real- the White Queen, the Tulgey Wood, the Hatter?

"I suppose, though, we could call you 'Not Our Alice'." McTwisp said tentatively, breaking into Jane's thoughts. "Although that might confuse the Flowers, and they'd spread rumors that there's Another Alice, and that would cause an uproar in Underland!" he finished, looking faint at the thought of upheaval.  
"Perhaps we shouldn't call me Alice at all, then," Jane said, disappointed.  
"Now there's an Idea," Mally said. "'Not At All Alice'."  
"We should consult Absolem." Uilleam declared, breaking off the naming game for now.  
"Yes, yes, Absolem will know what to do." McTwisp nodded, hopping on ahead.  
"About what to call me?" Jane asked confusedly.  
"About why you've been brought here," Uilleam corrected her.  
"Oh," Jane said, bemused.

In all of her excitement at actually making it into her Wonderland, Alice'sWonderland— dare she call it _their_ Wonderland?— she had completely overlooked the fact that she must be there for some purpose. After all, Alice had always been called here to right some wrong or have an adventure; was it now her turn?

"Come along then, Not At All Alice." Mally said, scampering off after McTwisp.  
"I'll get it." Dum said, grabbing one of Jane's hands.  
"No, me." Dee retorted, diving for her other.  
"It's not bein' your turn!"  
"You had it last time!"  
"You can both escort her!" McTwisp, Mally, and Uilleam all said at once.  
"Oh, wait!" Jane exclaimed. "My book, how can I carry it?"  
"I will hold it for you until a more suitable pack can be found." Uilleam said graciously, tucking the parcel under his wing.  
"Thank you so much." Jane sighed. "I can't lose it."  
"I will keep it safe." he promised.  
"Let's be off, then." Witzend suggested, prancing around, rather pleased to finally be a talking Cat.

Jane was sad to leave behind the garden; after all, she'd had so many daydreams about talking to flowers that it seemed a shame to leave before a proper conversation could be had. However, she was eager to see more of Wonderland, so she went along with her escorts through a forest of mushrooms of all different colors and sizes. Racing through her memory to remember Alice's stories, she knew that somewhere in these mushrooms would be a hookah smoking butterfly with an infuriatingly wise way of speaking.

When she saw him, however, she gasped in delight. "I know you!" she exclaimed. "You used to play with me in the Ascots' gardens when I was a child!"

Absolem regarded Jane through his monocle as her companions stared at each other in shock. Absolem rarely went Aboveground, and when he did it was only for the good of Underland— usually having something to do with the Champion. As far as anyone knew, though, Absolem hadn't been Above since the terrible Catahoribus Day. Why had he deigned to visit this insignificant, strange Aboveground girl?

"I see you're all grown up." he said complacently, with the air of a satisfied uncle.  
"Yes, all grown up and in my Wonderland at last!" she laughed, picking up Witzend and spinning in a rapturous circle.  
"And you, Witzend?" Absolem asked solicitously. "How do you fare, now that your wish has been granted?"  
"I'm very grateful, sir," Witzend said respectfully, "I just wish my grandmother could see me now."  
"Your grandmother?" Jane asked curiously.  
"Oh yes," Witzend said, preening. "I'm a granddaughter of the Dinah Cat, by her daughter Snowdrop."

Everyone except for Absolem gasped.

"The Dinah Cat?" McTwisp breathed. "As in… _Alice's_ Dinah?"  
"The very same," Witzend nodded, "She lived through all her nine lives and died several years ago. She had many, many children, and all of her descendants have been eager to come to Underland to share in our ancestress' adventures. And to think I'm the only one that's managed it!"

Jane stared at her kitten with newfound respect, stunned at this unexpected tie she had to The Alice. She was quite in awe of this mysterious Champion of Underland now; she could feel Alice's protective presence lying heavily over the land. She could just imagine that at any moment, Alice the Champion would stride from behind a tree, garbed in her glorious shiny armor, the Vorpal sword in hand, ready for another adventure.

"Resolve this for us, Absolem," McTwisp requested. "Why has this young lady been brought to Underland?"  
"Unroll the Oraculum." The Butterfly enigmatically replied.  
"The Oraculum," McTwisp told Jane as he unrolled the aged parchment scroll, "being the cyl—"  
"The cylindrical compendium of Underland." Jane finished easily, leaning over and eagerly staring at the fascinating oracle. "It tells of each and every Day since the Beginning. It's even more beautiful than I imagined."  
"She has learned well." Absolem said approvingly.  
"She found the Book, sir." Witzend said, beaming with pride at her mistress.

"Did she indeed? Good. Very good," Absolem nodded. "No wonder she's been brought. Show her the Retiuni Day."

Obligingly, McTwisp further unrolled the oracle, pointing to the Day in question. Jane leaned in, watching the moving picture as it drew itself and moved. Two Queens sat upon matching thrones. One was attended by a King in armor, the other by a dashing figure that Jane instantly recognized from her book's illustrations as the Mad Hatter. Floating in midair between the two thrones were two smiling Cats and a Butterfly that Jane recognized as Absolem. They all beamed with pride as they gazed upon the figure of a girl. The girl's back was turned, so that Jane couldn't see her features, but from the crown on her head it was clear that she was royalty.

It was a pretty picture, but it made no sense to Jane. Everyone else in the group, however, gasped, staring at the image reverently.

"That Day and every Day after it have always been blank." McTwisp said, eyes darting to and fro in amazement.  
"She's safe an' found an' 'ome again." Mally sighed.  
"Sorry?" Jane asked. "Who's found?"  
"The Azure Princess," Absolem said solemnly. "The lost daughter of the Blue Queen of Witzend. You will find her and return her to the Queens at Marmoreal. When you have found her, you will be returned home."  
"The Azure Princess?" Jane asked, confused. "I've never heard of an Azure Princess or a Blue Queen in any of the Wonderland stories before; How did she come to be lost?"  
"The answers will be revealed on the journey," Absolem said, before blowing a particularly large cloud of smoke at them and disappearing.

Jane took one final look down at the compendium, taking in all the pictures of the present and future she could see, looking for any clues that might help her on her quest. Upon seeing everything the oracle had to offer, she looked up at her companions.

"Where shall we start?" she queried.  
"That's easy," Mally replied, "the 'atta."  
"The Mad Hatter? Really?" Jane smiled delightedly.  
"If we're off ta find the Princess, we'll definitely be needin' the 'atta," Mally nodded, "'e'd not be pleased if 'e wasn't included in the rescue party."  
"It's settled, then." McTwisp said. "Mallymkun, if you will escort Jane and Witzend through the Tulgey Wood to the Tea Party. The rest of us shall make haste to Marmoreal to inform her Majesty of everything."  
"My pleasure," Mally nodded, waving her hatpin around, "an' tell the Queen not ta worry, I'll get the 'atta an' Not At All Alice ta the castle safe."  
"Until we meet again, then." Jane smiled. "How do you say it here? Fairfarren?"  
"Yes, exactly," McTwisp nodded.  
"Fairfarren, all," Alice repeated, gathering her book from Uilleam with a word of thanks and following Mally and Witzend as she started her grand adventure.


	4. A Promise Made

**Author's Situation**: Okay, first of all, I have some news. And before you freak out, no, the news is not that I'm going on hiatus. The reason you're getting this chapter is because I'm done with one of my two jobs, and I did say that once I was done with my night job I'd be able to post again. So this is me keeping that promise.

However, I have to completely rewrite everything I had for Book Three of this trilogy [it's a very long story, but it boils down to me changing my mind and screwing up everything I had originally planned to do], so while I'm doing that, I'm not going to update [though it shouldn't take me long to fix; I'm not very far into Book Three yet]. Also, I need to find a new beta [due to computer problems, Jiffie isn't able to beta for me anymore]. So it might be a couple of weeks before the next update. But here's this chapter to tide you over!

**Author's Note**: Another short chapter, but I like this one. It did what I wanted it to- namely, to show how much Underland mourns the loss of their Azure Princess, and also to confuse the living crap out of y'all. By the end of this chapter, I'm sure you're going to be baying for my blood and threatening to take off my head if I don't explain and fix what I did. All I'm gonna say in my defense [other than that I did say I wouldn't apologize for any plot-caused character mangling] is that A, I love Tarrant as much as all of you and I would never do what I'm doing to him without good reason, and B, I promise to work it all out. Eventually. That being said, enjoy!

**Naming Game Note**: Helena and Hermia both come from Shakespeare's play _A Midsummer Night's Dream_.

**Character Note**: After doing a bit of research, I found that Chessur [as he's called in the Burton movie] isn't a changing of the Cat's name; it's simply the proper pronounciation of Cheshire. So if/when you ever see me write Cheshire, know that I mean Chessur. Was that confusing…? If it was, sorry.

**Disclaimer**: The character of Puck, and the line "Lord, what fools these mortals be," are lifted from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. Don't sic Shakespeare's ghost on me, or I'll have to resurrect Marlowe to protect me.

Thank god for whoohoo. co. uk [minus the spaces of course]. That's where the base of Hatter's accent comes from- I would translate what he was saying into whoohoo, and then scale the translation back when the accent got too thick. Whoohoo is a brilliant cheat; as talented as I'd like to think I am at writing accents [Boondock Saints fanfic will do that for you], my Scottish brogue is shite.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to Jiffie for all the work she did on this story before she had to resign! I really appreciate it. Warning, this chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Jane's interest in Wonderland- after three times of Mally trying to get her to call it by its proper name, the Dormouse had given up in despair, muttering something about how she was "just like Alice,"- continued unabated. Every step brought something new and interesting to her eye, and she was itching to explore unabated. However, both Mally and Witzend continued to remind her that now was not the time for sightseeing. Wonderland had largely fallen wild again since the cursed Catahoribus Day, Mally said, and being outside at night wasn't safe. So they continued on determinedly, Jane clutching her precious book to her chest while Witzend graciously offered Mally a ride on her back despite the fact that their two species weren't exactly on the best of terms.

Jane trusted Mally's sense of direction- after all, the Dormouse had been living here since before The Alice had first arrived as a child- but it was getting very dark, and the twilight that settled over them was gloomy, moody and full of secrets. The woods they traveled through were close and twisted, and Jane shivered as her Imagination [strange that she was starting to think of things with capital letters] made the trees seem menacing and watchful; distrustful, even.

"And where might you be going at this time of night?"

Jane gasped, looking around for the velvety, perfectly enunciated voice. She heard soft whooshes of wind, but saw no one until a large disembodied Cat's head appeared directly in front of her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, drawing back a step in surprise.  
Mally glared. "Annoyin' Cat, always turnin' up where you're not wanted."

With a flick of his tail, the Cat suddenly appeared fully, easily floating in midair, resting his head on his folded paws as he observed them. Jane stared at him, fascinated as a sense of déjà vu swept over her. She knew him from Alice's stories, of course- this must be the Cheshire Cat, purveyor of pandemonium and avowed apathy. But the sense of knowing him went beyond simply recognizing him from a book. She felt as though she knew him in the same way she knew Absolem; that their paths had crossed before. She felt as though she knew exactly what the Cat's gray and blue fur would feel like, and how it felt to travel using his form of transportation.

The Cat's lazy gaze swept over all of them, his grin widening as he considered Witzend. For a moment the two felines considered each other, each sitting [or hovering] absolutely still except for the batting of an eye, the flick of a tail. They spoke silently, transmitting some strange form of cattish communication, before Witzend bowed her head.

"It's an honor to meet the Cheshire Cat," she mewed politely.  
"A child of the Dinah Cat," Chessur purred. "I hardly thought I'd see the day that one of you finally made it Below. And who might you be, luv?" the Cat asked, turning his attention to Jane again.  
"Jane," she replied, hugging her book close. "Though at present I feel much more like Helena and Hermia rolled into one. I don't suppose your name might be Puck?"  
"Lord, what fools these mortals be," he easily quoted. "Jane, is it?" the Cat repeated thoughtfully, looking her over with an air of interest in his eyes.  
"A Not At All Alice," Mally piped up. "We're 'eaded for the Tea Party, an' you're holdin' us up. The 'atta won't thank you for it."  
"The Tea Party? Do you think that wise, Mallymkun?" Chessur asked mysteriously.  
"I'm looking for the Azure Princess," Jane piped up.

For a disconcerting moment, the Cat merely looked at her, and Jane had the strong suspicion she was being judged. He floated closer, until he was nuzzling her neck. Jane jumped back, surprised, and swatted at him- or rather, at the mist that trailed in his wake after he laughingly translocated out of her way. Whatever he had smelled on her, he seemed pleased; she hadn't thought it possible, but his smugness had increased tenfold.

"Indeed?" he asked lazily, all nonchalance. "In that case, you'd best be on your way."  
"We are going the right way, aren't we?" Jane asked. "I mean no offense to your guidance, Mally, but it's so dark in here I can hardly see five feet in front of me."  
"I'll lead you there, then, but that's the end of it," Chessur said, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Jane looked around, frowning, until the Cat reappeared several yards away.

"Coming?" he asked, smiling.

Drawing a deep breath, she hurried after the Cat, Witzend and Mally close beside her.

"Mally?" she asked softly as they walked. "If you don't mind me asking… In all the stories about you, you never set much store by the humans you adventure with, especially not Aboveground girls. Why are you so willing to help me?"

For a long moment, Mally said nothing, and Jane was about to give up hope that she would ever answer the question. Then, very softly, the Dormouse began to speak, her paws tightening in Witzend's scruff as she stared straight ahead, tension quivering in her entire frame.

"Ye don't know 'ow 'appy everyone was, when the Azure Princess was born," she said. "Underland was just beginnin' ta thrive again, after we'd recovered from the Bloody Big Head's rule. The Princess' birth seemed like… like a promise, that the good times was 'ere ta stay." Mally sighed, bowing her head. "I swore ta protect 'er. We all did. I wasn' too fond 'a the Blue Royal Family then, but I still swore." The Dormouse's voice hardened, and she stared dead ahead. "I was th' one on guard when the Princess was taken. Tha's what happened on the Catahoribus Day; the Princess was stolen an' the entire Royal Family was ripped apart."

Jane's heart twisted with pity at Mallymkun's tale. She had known nothing about the disappearance of the Azure Princess, but clearly all of Underland mourned her loss.

"Why do we need the Hatter?" she asked, hoping to distract Mally.  
Instead of being distracted, Mally's face more clearly revealed her sorrow. "No one protected th' Princess more than the 'atta. 'e loved that child. 'e wants ta find 'er more'n anyone, 'cept maybe the Blue Queen."

Jane sighed softly; it was clear that this princess had been absolutely beloved. She found herself somewhat jealous- so many people mourned the loss of this girl and wished to have her back. She would consider herself blessed if her parents missed her half as much as Wonderland missed its lost princess. Of course she would do her best to find the princess and restore her to the family that had loved her; it was the least she could do for this land that she had loved for as long as she could remember.

* * *

She heard the Tea Party before she saw it; Alice had written descriptions of the music that would be playing from the phonograph. The haunting, empty-sounding music floated through the still air, increasing the melancholy brooding of the Trees around her.

So, she was finally going to meet the famous Mad Hatter. Of all the adventures Alice had penned, Jane's favorites were the ones she shared with the Hatter. There was such a beautiful relationship between them; they shared what was possibly the deepest connection Jane had ever seen or read about. They were a perfect match in every way, complementing and completing each other. Everyone in Underland depended on Alice, and Alice depended on the Hatter. She should have felt intimidated, meeting the Champion's Protector… but she wasn't. She felt, oddly enough, that she was heading towards a friend. From everything she'd read of him, the Hatter- who was, after all, the former leader of the Underland Underground Resistance- would be a formidable ally.

Mally glanced up at Not At All Alice, who looked more and more excited with each step they took. She wasn't sure about the wisdom of leading this Aboveground girl to the Hatter- not that she feared that the girl would steal away the Hatter's affections. She had long ago given up any aspirations of anything but friendship with him, and had accepted that no one and nothing could replace that friendship in the Hatter's heart. But… Zounds, did Jane have to look so very familiar to that Other, that Lost One? That dreamy expression, the tangled mess of hair, even the style of dress… what if one glance at this Not At All Alice caused the Hatter to fall into a whole new kind of Madness? What if seeing Jane's red hair and green eyes only reminded him of everything he'd lost?

Jane stared at the tea table avidly. The description in her book was perfect, down to the last detail. Cracked tea sets, mismatched china, stained tablecloth littered with the remains of food. The March Hare sat sleeping in his seat, clutching a spoon in one paw, and Mallymkun agilely leapt to her seat and dove into a teapot, from which soft snores could be heard a moment later. And sitting in a tattered armchair at the end of the table was the famous Mad Hatter.

She bit her lip, fighting back a wave of disappointment. This utterly still, colorless man… this was the hero of Underland, the rebel champion who had begun the battle that Alice had finished? Why, he almost looked as if he'd been drawn in charcoals, so muted were the colors of his clothing; even his hair was limp and dark. Where was his Muchness? She'd thought he would be lively and full of energy, but he looked like a statue. Was his current state due to the princess' disappearance? Mally had said he had loved the child more than anyone… Perhaps this was how he mourned her loss?

A quiet ticking broke the quiet of the Tea Party. Jane frowned at the unexpected noise, before realizing that it was the ticking of a pocket watch. The noise seemed to rouse the trio, for the March Hare awoke with a start. His head swiveled to look at her, and then he pointed, his entire body twitching, head whipping back to the Hatter as incoherent splutterings fell out of his mouth. A second later, the Hatter stirred and glanced up.

"Who are you?" he asked, in a voice gone hoarse and creaky from disuse. "Are you here for tea? Or to help me find my thimbles? I've lost them again, you see. I was buttering them, and they just disappeared on me. Terribly naughty of them, to run away before tea was over."

Jane bit her lip and glanced down at Witzend. She had known that the Hatter was Mad, of course, but she'd thought she'd known what to expect of his Madness. He would ramble and rave and pepper her with riddles. But he wouldn't be lost in the incoherent ramblings of his mind. He would be charming and delightful, not… broken. This Hatter was broken, shattered perhaps beyond repair. Witzend blinked up at Jane, her strange blue-green eyes transmitting sympathy, a silent encouraging as she urged her mistress on.

"I would enjoy a cup of tea, thank you," Jane said carefully.  
"Of course you would," the Hatter nodded, absently spinning a saucer on his finger. "Everyone who comes here loves tea. Especially Aboveground girls."  
Jane looked up at him. "How did you know I was from the Aboveground?"  
"Your scent, of course," the Hatter replied. "You smell of no magic and silence and grayness. And yet…" The Hatter paused, frowning, and sniffed the air delicately. "It's strange; I can smell something of Underland on you. You smell of honeysuckle and tea… like…"

The change was instantaneous. His eyes were suddenly a sickly topaz, the skin around his eye sockets a frightening, bruise-like black, the rest of his face paper white. His entire being crackled with fire and anger. He shot up suddenly, pushing his armchair back a few feet.

"Hoo dare ye?" he screamed in a thick Scottish-sounding brogue, advancing on Jane as his hands reached out, as if to choke her. "Hoo dare ye abscond wi' 'er scent? She needs 'at!"

Jane backed away slowly, eyes widening in fear. He'd never been violent towards others in his Madness; Alice had never been in any danger from him. But she wasn't Alice, she reminded herself. And she'd apparently committed some grave offense against the Hatter, though she had no idea what it could be. Her glance darted around the clearing, wondering how to get out of this mess.

The commotion caused the Dormouse to peek out from under the lid of her teapot. When she saw the furious Hatter advancing on Jane, she wasted no time. She leapt from her teapot and scurried down the table, past the March Hare who had dived beneath his chair, clutching a fork. She hurled herself off the table, just barely managing to grab the lace of the Hatter's lace cuff, and withdrew her hatpin, shoving it into the back of his hand.

"Hatta!" she screamed.

Mally clung to Hatter's cuff as he froze abruptly, his eyes suddenly green again. He blinked rapidly, as if confused about where he was and how he'd ended up here. Shaking his head, he glanced down at Mally.

"Thank you," he croaked. "I'm fine." Drawing a breath, he focused on Jane, frowning. "Oh dear, I'm terribly sorry," he lisped, looking mortified. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"  
"Not at all," Jane said, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I'm sorry if I've offended you…"  
"What?" he asked, frowning.  
"That's not it," Mally said, sighing as she scampered up Tarrant's arm and settling on the brim of his Hat. "It's yer smell, ye see. Ye smell like… _her_."  
"Oh," Jane said, trying to sound as if she understood when she didn't at all.  
"What's your name, boy?" the Hatter asked, tilting his head.  
"Jane," she said, wrinkling her nose.  
"What? That cannot be it," the Hatter exclaimed. "Why, that Name doesn't fit you at all!"  
"I've never thought so either," Jane said with a grin. "But until I find one that fits better, this is the one I'm stuck with."  
"But what are you doing here, Jane Who Is Not A Jane?" the Hatter asked, puzzled.  
"I've come to ask for your help," she said, hugging her book close. "You see, Absolem told me I'm to look for the Azure Princess-"

The change came again, the moment the title left Jane's lips. His irises grew more topaz than she had yet seen, his eyes ringed with black again. With a snarl he turned, grabbing one corner of the first table and overturning it, blind and deaf to the Hare and Dormouse's attempts to calm him as he overturned chairs and threw scones.

"Th' Azure Princess'll come reit here," he roared. "An' I'll be waitin' fur 'er, jist loch Ah trysted! Nae wee wisp ay an Abovegroond chit'll gang lookin' fur what's _mine_!"

She should have been terrified by these violent outbursts. After all, she knew he was called the _Mad_ Hatter for a reason. And truth be told, she was rather nervous at how very brutally he was behaving. But Jane had read Alice's stories too carefully to be afraid. Alice had been quite adamant that besides the mercury poisoning, the Hatter's Madness was caused by something else- something that Jane saw clearly behind the anger in his eyes. _Pain_. Deep, searing, abiding Pain, such as Jane had never seen before. This was the Madness of a man who had lost everything he had ever held dear, who was desperately trying to hold onto his last shred of Hope that he could recover just a bit of Happiness. When faced with so wounded a man as this, how could Jane fear a little bout of Madness?

Boldly, she stepped forwards, ignoring the destroyed furniture as she clapped her hands to his white face.

"Tarrant," she said, softly but insistently.

He stopped dead in his tracks, human touch bringing him back to himself. For a Timeless moment they stood there, green eyes staring into green. And then Tarrant broke, collapsing to his knees as his shoulders shook with violent sobs. Jane fell with him, keeping her hands clapped on his face. She gazed into his eyes, the dull gray orbs that swam with tears, and the look he wore was so mournful that it brought answering tears to her own eyes. She felt a sense of kinship with him surpassing anything she had ever felt before, even greater than her admiration of The Alice. She understood his Pain; after all, she had lost everything, too. She knew how utterly alone he was, how lost in his mind. And she wanted to heal him, the only way she knew how.

"I'm going find her, Tarrant," she promised. "Please, help me."  
Tarrant drew a deep, shuddering breath. "I have battled with Time for so very long, waiting for this day," he said softly. "I think it high time we got on to the rescuing and such."

* * *

Jane may have been ready to leave at that exact moment, but everyone else convinced her that there was no point in setting out when the sun was about to set. Besides, they didn't have any idea where to start looking for the Azure Princess. The best thing to do, it seemed, was to wait until the morning to take off, and spend tonight planning and drinking tea.

The fact that it was the supposedly mad creatures who proposed the plan, while the supposedly sane one wanted to go tearing off into the adventure, was an irony that Jane couldn't help but appreciate.

They'd all taken their seats, the Hatter seating Jane on his left. She was directly across from a chair stacked high with books, and as the Hatter sat he fondly caressed the back of the chair.

"Who sits there?" Jane asked, arranging her purple skirts around her.  
"Why, My Alice At Last, of course!" Tarrant smiled. "This has always been her seat. Of course," his face fell, his colors darkening again, "she's not been here for a very long while. Time has been keeping us apart again, the _slurvish guddler_."

Jane's heart stirred with pity once again to see how upset the Hatter obviously was at being separated from Alice.

"How cruel of him," she said sympathetically. "And after she left London to come home, too."  
"You knew she'd disappeared from Above?" he asked curiously.  
Jane nodded. "I'm the ward of her business partner, Lord Ascot," she said. "And I'm friends of sorts with her niece, Alice Charlotte."  
"So the wee babe was a lassie!" Tarrant grinned, his brogue very light. "That'll make herself happy."  
"Yes," Jane said. "Lottie has three siblings now, James, Richard, and Helena."  
"How marvelous," Tarrant smiled. "Alice hoped that Margaret would be happy. If she were here, she'd be happy to hear it."  
"But I don't understand," Jane frowned. "If Alice returned to Wonderland, where is she now? Why isn't she here with you?"

The Hatter's eyes faded to a flat, emotionless gray as the rest of his person dulled, to nearly the same shades of charcoal that he had been when she first arrived. Jane could see the subject of Alice was just as touchy as that of the Azure Princess. Vaguely, Jane wondered why Alice- who was, after all, the Champion of Underland- hadn't rescued the princess herself.

"A great many things disappeared when the Azure Princess was stolen from us," the Hatter replied heavily. "The Princess herself… The entire Blue Royal Family, actually… Alice and her Muchness…"

Jane gasped. Alice, gone? It couldn't be! How could that most muchiest of muchness-filled Absolutely Alices have disappeared? She glanced at the Hatter again, then frowned. No, Alice couldn't be completely gone, she decided. If she had well and truly disappeared, the Hatter wouldn't be here, she knew it. He would have disappeared into the Outlands, or simply faded away into nonexistence. So Alice had to be somewhere, and Jane had to find her.

"We'll find them all!" she cried determinedly. "We'll bring them all back to Wonderland."


	5. The Pieces Move, the Game Begins

**Author's Note**: I still haven't found a replacement beta, but I'm posting this anyways. Because I needed to unwind and relax, and nothing says "unwind and relax" to me quite like editing and posting a chapter.

Despite the fact that I'm pleased about this chapter being longer than the past two, this chapter was challenging to write. First off, Jane and Tarrant _would not_ behave themselves. They gave me writers' block for a good two days (I'm fairly certain Tarrant killed Time again), and then they tried to tip my hand too soon. During the rewrite of this chapter, Tarrant went off on a bit of a tangent. He keeps doing that. Please don't ask me why Tarrant is so preoccupied with the notion of dreams and who's dreaming what; I have no idea. I'm chalking it up to just being one of his hang-ups.

When I'd finished with Jane and Tarrant, there then came the problem of the other three POVs in this chapter. I'm actually quite fond of Stayne's scene; I had fun working out his psychology. I ended up humanizing all of the villains that pop up through this trilogy a lot more than I intended to; instead of just being straight bad guys, they all tried to make me like them. Makes writing certain chapters really awkward, because I actually start to regret what I'm doing. And let me tell you what, me sympathizing with my characters is not the way to get a story written.

Dafydd's POV was a last-minute addition. Originally, I was only planning for the Hassasseen to be nameless lackies. I wrote the entirety of Book One and a couple chapters of Book Two on this assumption. And then they surprised me. And made me completely change my plot. I was really annoyed about that at the time, but now… hot damn I love these guys. However, in this chapter they got absolutely out of hand. I only intended to set up the power struggle between Niall and Stayne, and instead you're getting an introduction to pretty much every important Outlandish character that's going to pop up over the rest of the story. There's a lot of exposition and stuff that's not important until Book Two, so I'm sorry for putting it into your head now. But I can't control these characters.

I felt rather like I was playing a game of chess with this chapter; hence the title. It's a pity I'm terrible at chess… This is where everybody's gathering up steam and preparing to spring into action, and I was afraid that this chapter might come off sounding too passive. Also, there's a bit of a time-hop in this chapter. The first scene takes place in the evening, the two Outlands POVs late at night, and the third jumps back several hours to sunset. I'm trusting y'all will have no problem following the narrative. Yay for time warps. Enjoy!

**Tea Note**: Alice Tea is an actual tea. There's a small chain of tea shops in Manhattan by the name of Alice's. Yep, based off Wonderland. Their house blend is called Alice Tea, and it's made of the very ingredients I mention in this chapter. I adore these tea shops, hence the homage in this chapter.

**Outlandish Note**: The word tanaiste is Irish Gaelic and means "heir of the chief." No, I'm not changing the word to make it a military title; when I refer to Dafydd as the Nazari's tanaiste, that's because that's what he is. Ceann-fine is a Scots Gaelic word that means "chieftain."

**Character Name Note**: Palladia comes from the Greek name/title Pallas, which means white [it referred to the goddess of wisdom, Athena]. Dafydd, Ioan, and Niall are all Welsh names.

**Original Character Face Claims**: Please don't hurt me for casting two of these characters as sparklepires. I didn't really mean for that to happen.

King Kalen is portrayed by Patrick Dempsey.  
Princess Lily Palladia is portrayed by Zoey Deschanel.  
Dafydd Nazar is portrayed by Kellan Lutz [a la the Twilight series, and blue eyes].  
Ioan Nazar is portrayed by Rufus Sewell.  
Niall Nazar is portrayed by Jackson Rathbone.

**Disclaimer**: My name for my fighting force, the Hassasseen, is taken from the term _Hashshashin_, which was the name for a group of medieval Islamic warriors. It's where our word assassin comes from. The Hashshashin, or Nizari as they called themselves, were a highly skilled band of killers, and that's what I based them off of. And yes, I named the Nazari after the Nizari.

Also, I based my vision of the Black Queen of Marmoreal off of the images of Arwen in Elrond's vision in _Return of the King_, what with the black clothes and the long veil. No copywrite infringement of LOTR is intended, please don't have Pete Jackson sic Tolkien's ghost on me.

* * *

Once it was decided upon that they wouldn't set out until the morning, all that was left to do was to have a grand Tea Party. The March Hare had dashed into his windmill house, appearing a few moments later with plates of scones, sandwiches and cakes in each hand, a tray full of fragrant, steaming teapots on his head. He'd danced around the table madly to Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat, but nothing had spilled as he tossed everything into place. Witzend had curled up on the table beside Jane, contentedly lapping at the saucerful of cream the Hatter had poured for her, while Jane laughed at the antics of the Hare and the Dormouse. They had thrown things, posed riddles, sung songs; the Hatter had even whipped up a bit of sky blue ribbon to tie around Witzend's neck in honor of the festive occasion. When they had all eaten and drunk their fill, they headed inside for the night.

The windmill looked dilapidated and abandoned on the outside, but inside it was surprisingly bright, comfortable, and clean- much like Thackery himself, Jane reflected. There was a logic to his Madness, and an order to his house once you saw past the shield of the insanity. Jane had never before thought that one could feign the degree of one's madness in order to protect oneself from scrutiny, but she had to admit it was a brilliant idea… if that was what Thackery was doing. In Wonderland, it was rather hard to tell who was genuinely mad and who was simply enjoying the benefits of insanity.

Mally had skittered up above the mantelpiece and promptly curled up to sleep in another teacup, while Thackery had disappeared into the kitchen, where loud bangs and clangs and exclamations from the Hare himself could be heard. This left Jane and the Hatter in the sitting room to amuse themselves.

"Shall I show you to the guest room?" the Hatter asked.  
"Oh no," Jane shook her head as she cradled her book and the sleeping Witzend to her chest. "I'm sure I shall never get to sleep tonight. Not now that I'm finally in my Wonderland. I've been waiting all my life to get here, you know."  
"Your Wonderland?" the Hatter asked curiously, seating himself in an armchair by the fireplace.  
"Yes," Jane nodded. "I've spent most of my life Imagining a place exactly like this- well, imagining _this_ place, I suppose. I always knew _my_ Wonderland was real, at least to me, but I never dreamed that Alice's Wonderland might be real, too! It seems now that I've been dreaming of Alice's Wonderland all along, since here I am and here she was-"  
"Jane!" the Hatter interrupted.  
"Thank you," she croaked. "I'm fine."

Tarrant stared at Jane, bemused. He wasn't at all used to being the one to stop a rant; normally he was the one ranting. Was this how he sounded? And was this how his friends felt around him- mystified and wondering if they'd properly heard even one word in six of what had just been said? Jane _had_ just said that she'd Imagined Underland, hadn't she, even if she called it Wonderland exactly as Alice had always done… Alice… oh, Alice. His Alice had always called it Wonderland, even after she'd returned at last, for good. Some had called it insulting that she would refuse to call Underland by its proper Name, but he had always found it endearing…

"Tarrant?"  
He looked up sharply, shaking his head. "I'm fine." Then, recalling her selfsame response from a moment earlier, he smiled. "It appears we hold a trait in common."  
"Yes it does," she nodded, smiling. "And I must say, I find it a relief. I always thought I was the only one to ramble like I do. And I do, all the time, and if I'm not ranting in speech then it's in thought. My foster mother tells me I'm quite mad."  
"All the best people are," he replied automatically, before sitting bolt upright, his gaze intense as he sought her eyes. "You don't think this a dream, do you?"

Oh, he truly hoped that this wasn't a dream. He didn't want to be just figment of someone else's imagination, a shadow in another dream. Was it possible that two different people could dream him up? Or that, once one person finished with the characters of a dream, those creations became available to another dreamer? Was that what had happened, that Alice had simply tired of him and walked away from this dreamworld? But then, how had everything continued with such continuity? His world and his life had continued on without a break; was that the nature of dreams? Or perhaps… could it be that _he _was the dreamer? Oh, he didn't like that idea. That would suggest that His Alice had only ever been a figment of his imagination… No. If the choice was between being in Alice's dream or dreaming Alice up, he would much prefer that she was the dreamer, because in that case she was still real, and alive, and well.

"No," Jane said thoughtfully, her sweet voice cutting through Tarrant's thoughts. "Perhaps I should believe it is, that this all just the product of hitting my head or inhaling mercury fumes. But I think this place is real; it's too complex to be a dream. Besides, dreams always end, and I don't want this to ever end."  
"Don't you want to return home?" Tarrant asked, tilting his head.  
"No," Jane shook her head decidedly. "England was never home; my home was in my own imagination. I… I do wish I had gotten to meet my parents, I suppose, but that seems like a small thing to trade in exchange for staying here. After all, I've never met them, so what does it matter if I never do? No, I'd much rather stay in Wonderland… if I may," she hurriedly added.

He looked at her thoughtfully. Strange; it seemed that Underland knew how to call to those who felt out of place in the Above, and provided a way to give them a new Home.

"If you want to stay, I'm sure the White Queen will allow it," he said after a moment. "She might take you on as a Lady in her court. She does love having handmaidens."  
"Perhaps," Jane nodded. "But first, we should focus on finding the Azure Princess."

He leaned back in his chair, gripping the arms tightly as he lost himself in thought. What did Jane think he'd been doing for the last… how many Days had it been? Did she think he had not scoured every inch of Underland, including the barren, forbidding Outlands, hoping against Hope to find his precious Princess? And when it became obvious that she was gone, that the Blue Royal Family was rent apart and scattered, he had returned to the tea table, devastated. He had determined that he would wait at his table until his Princess found her way back home. After all, His Alice had always returned for tea eventually… it was only a matter of time until his Princess did likewise. Should he perhaps refuse to go on this quest with Jane, remain at his table and wait? But then again, Jane was supposedly the one who would find her… And why was that? Why was Jane allowed to find the Azure Princess, when he was the one who so badly wanted her returned? This should be his Quest by rights; why had he been supplanted, his mission given to an Abovegrounder?

"Tarrant," Jane said softly.

He whipped around, drawing in a sharp breath as he was abruptly pulled out of his Madness. Blinking, he looked around, confused; how had he gotten all the way across the room? What had happened to his armchair, and why was there a pile of splinters and ripped fabric— oh. _Oh_. He sighed, defeated, frustrated with himself and his Madness. He snuck a peek at Jane, checking to be sure she was unharmed. She must have been terrified of him, and yet all he saw was concern in her green eyes.

"I'm fine," he said dully.

Gently, Jane guided him to the couch, before walking into the kitchen. A moment later she returned, a pot of tea and two teacups on a tray. She drew a spindly side table before them and set the tray on it, then poured them both some tea, which he drank gratefully. Alice had once described this tea as being a blend of Indian black, Japanese green, vanilla, and rose. Tarrant had been delighted with the idea of a tea composed of colors… he'd called this Alice Tea ever since.

"You miss her terribly. The Azure Princess," she said quietly- a statement, not a question.  
He nodded, staring down into his tea. "Sic' a wee li'l boy," he sighed, his voice slipping into his native Outlandish brogue. "But sic' a grip oan heem! He used tae grab mah Hat reit aff mah heed, gigglin' loch mad all th' while."  
"When was she stolen?" Jane asked.  
"It's stoaner tae say- Time doesnae pass haur loch it diz Above," the Hatter replied, his dull gray eyes far away in his memories. "But Alice guessed she was around six months auld ur sae, by Above reckonin'."  
Jane's eyes widened. "Alice? Alice was there when the Princess was taken?"  
"Ay coorse," he nodded. "She an' Ah baith lived wi' th' White Queen at Marmoreal a' th' time."  
Jane blinked. "Then why didn't she-"  
"She did," the Hatter cut her off before she could finish that Thought. "We baith did. We searched everyhaur fur th' Princess. But we ne'er foond her- Absolem said we ne'er woods. A new Champion woods hae tae fin' 'er an' brin' 'er haem."  
"Me," Jane said softly.  
"Aye," the Hatter acknowledged.

They sat quietly for a long moment, drinking tea while each was lost in their thoughts. Then, hesitantly as she didn't want to irritate his true Madness any more than she had to, Jane spoke.

"When Absolem told me… what I was here for," she said hesitantly, "he showed me the Oraculum."  
"Did he now?" Tarrant asked, looking at her with eyes gone pale green. Not quite his happiest mood, but he was calm again.  
Jane nodded. "I had no idea how to go about this sort of thing, so I tried to see if there might be any clues in the future Days."

He looked at her, but said nothing. Poor thing, she couldn't be expected to know how the Oraculum worked. It was dangerous to look into the future; not only was it constantly changing [except for certain fixed points in Time, like the Frabjous Day], but by attempting to force the future you saw you could change it utterly. Or contrariwise, you could meet the very future you'd attempted to avoid.

"It wasn't very helpful," Jane admitted. "I don't think the Oraculum wanted to make it too easy for me. But I did see one thing… a location. I'm almost sure that we'll find the Princess there."

She stood, glancing about the room for what she sought. Hurrying to the writing desk, she grabbed a piece of paper, a quill that looked like a raven feather, and a jar of ink, and began sketching the scene she'd seen on the Oraculum. After a moment, Tarrant stood and joined her, looking over her shoulder and staring at the drawing. It showed a girl- her face turned away, of course- kneeling on black, scorched earth, surrounded by burned ruins. Jane glanced up at the Hatter, her heart clenching in sympathy when she saw the colors vying for dominance in his eyes- angry topaz, sorrowful gray, even the happiest of emerald green.

"Those are the ruins of Hightopp Hill, which was destroyed on the Horunvendush Day by the Jabberwock on the Red Queen's orders," he whispered, his voice choked and twisted with sorrow. "I… I always hoped that someday she might go there."

They stared at each other in silence, so caught in their emotions that neither noticed the soft flutter of wings outside the window, the dark shadow as a Bird took off into the night.

Tarrant felt his heart twisting and knotting itself up as he stared at the sketch of the site of his clan's demise. The last place in any world he wanted to go was Hightopp Hill. But… if his Azure Princess was going to be there… if he was to be reunited with her At Last… then to the Hill he would go, as soon as there was enough light to travel by.

_

* * *

The small, dark four-year-old boy was curled into as small a ball as he could manage, pressed into the shadows of a corner while his drunken, enraged father beat his mother, screaming at her in a mixture of Proper Underlandian and Outlandish. He didn't know why his father was angry, didn't understand what his mother might have done wrong. His eyes were wide with terror and understanding as he watched the first of the many lessons in power and control he was to learn. He who had the power held the control. He who held control was untouchable…_

_The fourteen-year-old young man stumbled away from his father's burning hut, one hand clamped over the bleeding, gaping cavity that used to hold an eye. He wasn't running; running away implied that he didn't have control. And he had that power, finally; he had wrested it from his father at long last. When his father had gotten drunk and taken a swing at him- at him, since his mother was long dead thanks to his father's brand of affection- he had fought back, refusing to let this man have power over him anymore. And when the fight was over and his father lay dead, he set fire to the hut and left. An eye was a small price to pay for the control he now had over himself, over his life. His fellow trainees in the army camp would wonder how he'd been injured, and he would tell them it was a battle with a monster. They never needed to know what sort of monster he had taken control over…_

_He'd never really liked the Bloody Big Head, not even when she was a Princess with a normal-sized cranium. But they were both lost souls, terrified of being powerless. They both needed control, and it appeared that together they could control all they saw. So, he agreed to join her in her overthrow of her insipid little sister. She would be the Red Queen of hearts, and he should be her Champion, her Ace, her Knave. And someday, their power would be absolute…_

_He knew, the moment she backhanded him for allowing Alice to escape Salazen Grum, on the Bandersnatch, with the Vorpal Sword, that he'd made a serious tactical error. How could he have complete control over his world when __**she**__ held control over __**him**__? He couldn't, that's how. It didn't matter that he was the Ace of Hearts, the feared Knave who held control over all of Crims' military forces. It didn't matter, because he was still under her thumb; a pawn, like everyone else. No, he would have to eliminate her in some way; only then would he be free, only then would he have control again… _

Ilosovic Stayne shot straight up, his good eye opening and looking around blindly as he panted in terror. A moment's observance found him not in Salazen Grum, but in a small, badly-made tent in the depths of the Outlands. He listened, but instead of hearing the irritating, lisping, grating voice of Iracebeth of Crims, he heard only the soft footsteps and muted voices of his personal guard. They were only memories, he assured himself; the same old nightmares again. Thus reassured, he drew a deep, steadying breath before disentangling himself from the pile of furs that served as a bed. Meager furnishings for a King, but that was soon to change, after all. He was a patient man; he could bide his time.

It had taken years of patient planning to get to this point. After he and the Bloody Big Head had been banished, it had taken him quite a bit of sweet talking to get himself back in the former Queen's good graces. No, of course he hadn't truly meant to kill her… He had merely been trying to dupe the White Queen into thinking he had changed sides, so he could remain in Marmoreal as a spy, and help to facilitate the Red Queen's return… He would never attempt to harm his Queen; after all, he was her Knave and her slave… She had believed him, of course. She'd always been a genius at believing only what she wanted to.

It had been child's play to convince her to wed him; an unusual ceremony, perhaps, but after all she did have Royal Blood, which made a wedding she presided over binding. And after a wedding night he never wanted to think about again, it had been the work of a moment to slit her throat. After all, by wedding and bedding her he became the Red King, and then he had no further use for her. He'd broken their cuffs with a well-aimed axe blow, and then he was free.

He'd spent years prowling the Outlands, finding creatures and people who felt no love for the White Queen and encouraging them to join him. His greatest acquisition had been the loyalty of the Nazari, a nomadic people greatly feared throughout the Outlands. Their fighting force, the Hassasseen, was admittedly rather small. The Nazari was a tribe of a little over 1,000 people, and the Hassasseen numbered only 200, which normally Stayne wouldn't think at all a sufficient number of men for an army. But despite their small number, they were as fine a troupe of soldiers as Stayne had ever seen, and their tanaiste, while young, was a general of unparalleled skill. The Nazari had no great love for the Adamasi, better known as the White Royals; all it had taken Stayne was a promise that they would have vengeance against them, and the Nazari had pledged their support- and better yet, the Hassasseen.

Stayne wasn't exactly sure why the Nazari hated the Adamasi so; something about a blood feud and a long history. He didn't really care. What mattered was that in return for a promise that the Nazari would be given the land of Iplam, the entire clan had pledged fealty to him. When Stayne returned to Underland, the Hassasseen would become his new army, a suit of Hearts stronger than the Cards had ever been. The rest of the clan would be employed as craftsmen, and their labors would bring him a tremendous amount of revenue. He would have their complete allegiance when he became the Scarlet Emporer of Underland; all he needed to do was slit the throat of the Nazari's ceann-fine [which in their language meant chieftain], and they would be his forever.

It had taken a long time to build himself up to this point- years, if his reckoning of Time was correct, but he had a formidable force now. It was Time to take what was his. He'd start small, of course; reclaim Salazen Grum, transform it into his home base. Thanks to his marriage to Iracebeth [short-lived though it had been], he was the legal King of Crims; Underland would allow him to take that throne without a struggle. And then, he would take his revenge. He'd already promised the Nazari the privilege of slitting the throats of the Adamasi. Stayne would stand back and watch Mirana's demise with a smile; he would laugh as she fell, the woman who had dared to claim she held control over him. And when Mirana was dead, Stayne would take his own revenge. He would give the High Queen's Champion the same treatment the High Queen received, slitting her pale throat and watching her red Uplandish blood stain the ground. He would kill the girl who had caused him such trouble and her madman of a Hatter, and then he would control everything.

Thinking through his master plan had helped to chase away all memory of his nightmares. Nodding in satisfaction, Stayne rose from his cot, using a little of his precious store of water to wipe his face free of sweat. Breathing deeply and evenly, he wrapped a warm robe made of cured horse leather around himself in defense against the nighttime chill. Looking as much like a King as was possible in these Fates-forsaken Outlands, he walked out of his tent, breathing the night air deeply.

"My lord?" the Hassasseen's tanaiste questioned, leaving his small fire to approach. "Are you alright?"  
"Perfectly well, Dafydd," Stayne nodded, barely sparing the young man a glance. "I merely required some air. Ah. I believe I have messages," he said, scanning the night sky.

Against the dull light of the red moon [it amused Stayne, how the sky was always red here; how appropriate], three small smudges could be seen in the sky, approaching the camp. For the millionth time, Stayne blessed his luck that he had run across the murder of Crows as he and Iracebeth first crossed into the Outlands. Once Underlanders were banished to the Outlands, they couldn't return, but the magical curse that ensured this punishment didn't extend to the birds and beasts. The Crows' loyalty was gained at a dear cost; the number of villages he had to raid to find enough shiny baubles to soothe their insatiable desire to hoard! But as spies in Underland, they were invaluable, so he was content to pay their exhorbitant price.

With a flick of his fingers, Stayne summoned Dafydd to accompany him as he walked back into his tent. Stayne seated himself in his roughly-made chair, arranging himself so that he still looked like a King, while Dafydd took his place standing behind Stayne's right shoulder, his claymore unsheathed. Stayne knew he was in no physical danger from the Crows, but he also knew from experience that Dafydd's sheer size was utterly intimidating, as was his silence. No one would dare lay a toe out of line, not while the Hassasseen's tanaiste was watching.

"Greetings, King Who Would Be," the leader of the Crows cawed, perching himself on a stand on Stayne's desk.  
"Slackbeak," Stayne nodded. "You have news?"  
"Payment?"  
Stayne sighed, curbing his impatience. "Will be forthcoming dependent upon what you have to tell."  
The Crow ruffled his feathers indignantly, but began speaking. "Underland has called a new Champion. She only just came hours ago."  
"Indeed?" Stayne asked, raising an eyebrow. "For what purpose?"  
"To find the Azure Princess," the bird answered. "My brethren tell me that the White Queen seeks to crown her and place her on the throne of Crims, to repair the damage done by the Red Queen."  
"I see," Stayne said.

And indeed, he did see. He knew what the White Queen was doing. The idiots she ruled would see it as another of Wise Queen Mirana's decisions to heal and repair Underland, to restore it to its former glory. But Stayne knew better. Mirana was doing exactly what he was- trying to solidify her hold on Underland, to maintain her power and control. Healing the land, after all, could only be done by someone with Royal Blood- and someone Underland had accepted as a ruler. There was precious little Royal Blood in Underland anymore; as a matter of fact, since the banishment of the Red Queen and the disappearance of the Blue Queen, Mirana and her children were the only suitable royals left. True, there was the Black Queen… but she was empty, only a shadow queen with no power. Mirana might be powerful, but she didn't have the power to heal all of Underland by herself. To truly heal Underland, she needed all of Underland's surviving royals; she needed the Blue Royals of Witzend. Together, the Whites and Blues would seize control of Underland… would attempt to control him again. And this, he would not allow. No one would have control of him, never again.

"I was under the impression that the Azure Princess had disappeared as a baby," Stayne said to the Crow. "No one was supposed to know where she was."  
"Yes," Slackbeak nodded. "But the Oraculum has revealed that she will be found by this new Champion."  
"Who is the Champion? Not Alice, surely?" Stayne asked.  
"No," Slackbeak said. "But another from the Above. She means to lead a group to Hightopp Hill- looked like the same rebels of the Resistance days."  
"How very interesting," Stayne mused. "The Dormouse and the Hatter?"  
"Yes, Highness," the Crow nodded. "And a Cat- not the Cheshire, it seems to be the Above girl's pet."  
Stayne smirked. "I shall take great pleasure in running the madman through."  
"Payment?" the Crow cawed.  
"Yes yes," Stayne said impatiently, leaning over and grabbing the first thing that came to light- a heavy ruby pendant on a golden chain. He draped it around Slackbeak's neck. "There will be far more than that if you and your murder keep me informed of both the girl's movements and the state of things in Marmoreal," he said.  
"It will be done, Sire," the Crow nodded before taking off.

Stayne watched the bird fly off before turning around and looking at Dafydd. Though the Outlander remained quiet, his sapphire blue eyes were watchful, and there was expectation in his posture. Stayne smiled, a gesture with no warmth.

"It's time," he stated. "Gather your men. Go into the Mountains, the murder should be there. Go to Hightopp Hill and apprehend the rescuers. The Aboveground girl and the Hatter I want alive and unspoiled. Kill the rest, or capture them to torture at your leisure, whichever you prefer. Bring them to Salazen Grum without being seen. I will take another route and meet with you there."  
"Yes, my lord," Dafydd said, inclining his head before taking off.

Stayne watched the Hassasseen walk off as a cruel smile grew on his face. Soon, very soon, Underland would be all his. No one would ever have power over him again.

* * *

Dafydd Nazar walked through the Red King's camp quickly, his entire body humming with excitement though he did his best to appear impassive. But he knew he was giving himself away, through the speed of his progress through the camp and the way he kept twirling his claymore around. Sure enough, when he passed his cousin and second-in-command, Ioan rose his eyebrows and called out.

"What has you so keyed up this late at night?" he asked. "Going to spend the night with Afanen, are you?"  
Dafydd shot a Look at his irreverent kinsman. "I've told you before, that's over. Very over."  
"So you keep saying," Ioan smirked, not at all repentant. "And every time you say it, it's a lie."  
"If you have nothing useful to say, put your breath to better use and get some training in," Dafydd shot back, rolling his eyes and moving on.

Dafydd made his way through the camp, reflecting in passing that putting two kings in one camp was never a smart idea. The Nazari paid lip service to the Red King, yes. But in all practical ways, they still followed their ceann-fine. If there ever came a time when Ilosovic Stayne came into conflict with Niall Nazar- and that was really more of a _when_ than an _if_- there was no question who the Nazari would stand behind.

Dafydd wondered how aware of the Nazari's true loyalties the Red King was. Did Stayne realize that the Nazari were only using him to return to their rightful home in Underland? Or did the king only care about the militaristic service the Hassasseen were providing him? It was likely that only Time would tell.

Shaking his head, Dafydd stepped through the flap of Niall's tent, unsurprised to see candles lit. Sometimes, he had to wonder if the ceann-fine ever slept; he was always so busy with clan disputes and deciding where in the Outlands the tribe would migrate to next.

"Did you leave Briallen all alone?" Dafydd asked in greeting.

Niall glanced up from the papers on his desk, the candlelight playing over his stern features and the sapphire eyes they both shared. When he saw who the intruder on his solitude was, his face softened, and he nodded Dafydd into the chair opposite his desk.

"She's asleep, she won't know the difference," he said.  
Dafydd scoffed as he poured them both a cup of wine. "I'm glad I won't be here when she yells at you in the morning."  
Niall smiled ruefully before Dafydd's words sunk in. "Wait. Why will you not be here?"  
Dafydd leaned back in his chair, trying to contain his excitement. "Stayne is sending my men into Underland."

Niall paused, his eyes rapt as he stared at Dafydd over the rim of his earthenware goblet. Slowly, Niall lowered his cup, leaning forward in his seat.

"What?" he asked.  
Dafydd nodded. "He's sending us to retrieve an Aboveground chit. And the Hatter."  
Niall frowned, his handsome face twisting into a scowl. "That worthless disgrace to his clan…"  
"Is still technically the Laird of Iplam," Dafydd reminded Niall.  
He scoffed. "For now. Why does Stayne want them?"  
"They're looking for the Azure Princess," Dafydd replied. "Stayne wants 'em stopped."  
"So our purposes are in alignment," Niall said thoughtfully. "You don't suppose there's any chance that you might secure Tearmunn while you're there?"  
"I don't know," Dafydd said. "We could try, if we were ordered."  
"I do order you," Niall said. "Do what you can. You know I don't trust Stayne to leave us in peace once we come to Underland. If he intends to make slaves of us, I want us to be able to hold Tearmunn against him."  
"I will," Dafydd promised, nodding. "And I'll send word, when I can."  
"Good," Niall said. "I'll be waiting. Go safely."  
"As safely as we always do," Dafydd said.  
"That's what worries me," Niall said dryly.

* * *

Sunset shone over the White Castle of Marmoreal, warming the pristine white marble to a rosy pink in the dying light. The scent of cherry blossoms perfumed the air, and a soft, playful breeze teased the skirts and tresses of Mirana, High Queen of Underland and chatelaine of the palace as she stood on the balcony leading out from her private study. She glanced up to the left, to the turrets where the Queens' banners flew. The White Queen's standard, a pristine white silk banner of a cherry tree crowned with five stars. The Black Queen's ensign, an inky black taffeta background with a sword, a dancing sash wrapped around the blade, both done in silver. The Queen's smile gentled, sadness tinging her lips as she took in the dark standard, as well as the shadowy, veiled figure of the Black Queen herself, walking through the gardens nestled behind the cherry trees, as she did every afternoon.

The Black Queen hadn't always lived in Marmoreal. As a matter of fact, until the disappearance of the Azure Princess, there had been no such figure as the Black Queen. It wasn't until Tarrant and Alice Hightopp failed to find the Azure Princess that the Black Queen had appeared. She had no official powers within Underland, couldn't heal or affect the land; she merely existed within it, kept alive only by Underland's magic. She had no name that anyone but Mirana, Absolem, and the Cheshire Cat knew of, and no one save those three had ever seen the face shrouded behind the Queen's thick black veil, or even heard her voice. The Black Queen was a shadow, a ghost, a living symbol and reminder of everything Underland had lost with the collapse of the Blue Royals.

From the instant the Black Queen had appeared at Marmoreal, she had been kept under Mirana's personal care. Her every need was provided for, and Mirana kept everyone in her Court away from the Queen who wanted only to dwell silently in her sorrow. Mirana could do no more for her sister; only the Azure Princess could heal the Black Queen and banish her utterly.

Mirana's heart ached at the thought of the babe they'd lost. No aunt could have loved a niece more than Mirana had loved the Azure Princess; only the Blue Queen and Sapphire King had loved her more. For long years- eighteen, by Absolem's Aboveground reckoning- Mirana had daily scoured the Oraculum, searching for any sign that the Princess' recovery was at hand.

And finally, after years of waiting, Hope was on the horizon. The appearance of this Aboveground girl had spurred the Oraculum to reveal the future beyond the Blankness [as everyone called the scroll after the last illustration, which simply said Retiuni Day] for the first time since the Princess had been taken. Mirana could clearly see the Retiuni Day, the day the Blue Royal Family would be restored, and she could see a future after that day. The girl from Above had given them their future back, Mirana was certain of it. Now she need only wait for her new Champion to arrive.

She turned as the doors to her chamber opened and an anxious white Rabbit hopped in.

"Yes, Sir McTwisp?" she asked kindly.  
"Your Majesty has visitors," the Rabbit said, twitching. "They say they have urgent news."  
"Then we had best not keep them waiting," Mirana said, exiting her balcony. "Would you please alert the King, and ask him to meet me in the Audience Hall? Thank you."

She stopped only long enough to place her ivory crown on her head. She didn't normally wear her crown; unlike Iracebeth, she didn't like the heavy weight. Normally, Mirana wore hats- all of which had been crafted by Tarrant, before he left Court. She only wore her crown for occasions of State and for the three hours each day she sat in the Audience Hall, hearing petitions and settling disputes. She had a feeling that this meeting would most definitely warrant the wearing of her crown.

Once she was sure it was secured atop her white tresses, she floated through the castle with all due haste. Through long years of practice, she managed to look calm and unhurried as she rushed to her throne, with only a whisper of sound from her long skirts and slippered feet. She gracefully ascended the dais, smiling as her beloved husband Kalen took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. While he was dressed in white and pearls like Mirana, his hair and beard were inky black, and his eyes a brilliant shade of blue.

"Good even, Wife," he murmured as they seated themselves in their thrones.  
"Good even, Husband," Mirana replied with a smile.

She curled her fingers around his, refusing to release Kalen's hand though they were in public. Her Court may be proper and refined, but there was no impropriety in having her hand in her wedded husband's whenever she wanted. And she was the Queen; who would dare to reprimand her?

"Where have you been this day?" she asked him fondly.  
"Inspecting the newest members of the army, Sweetling," Kalen said. "And you? Have you been speaking to the trees all day?"  
"Only in the morning," Mirana smiled. "I spent the afternoon in my study. I wonder if you might join me there after this interview? There is business we need to attend to, and I should very much like your opinion before any decisions are made."  
Kalen smiled. "As always, I am at your service, my Lady."

Mirana turned to give McTwisp permission to let the visitors in, but the doors opened to reveal a young woman with hair as black and eyes as blue as her father's, garbed in a white gown similar to Mirana's. Unlike her willowy, graceful mother's gliding walk, the White Princess moved energetically, never staying still for longer than a moment.

"Announcing Her Royal Highness, Lily Palladia, Crown Princess of Marmoreal," McTwisp said, twitching at the princess' unexpected appearance.  
"Mother?" Lily asked, her delicate brows drawing together in a frown as she curtsied to her parents. "You're holding an audience? Now?"  
"I believe our visitors come bearing important news," Mirana nodded, motioning for Lily to stand by her side. "Let our visitors in please, Sir McTwisp," she said to her Royal Page.  
"Announcing Sir Uilleam Dodo and the Sir Tweedles," McTwisp said, before joining the party that entered into the Hall.

Mirana smiled as the Animals approached. For their heroic efforts to aid Alice leading up to and on the Frabjous Day, Mirana had had them all knighted [Tarrant, in recognition of the vital role he'd played leading the Resistance and protecting Alice, had been made a Lord- Duke of Iplam to be precise, though understandably he never used the title]. In return, in addition to their visits to Marmoreal, they often brought Mirana and Kalen news of Underland's doings.

"Majesties, Your Highness," Uilleam said, stepping forward and executing an elegant bow. "We bear news from the Flower Garden by the Door. This afternoon, a girl from the Above was found there. She came through the fountain."  
"Through the fountain?" Kalen asked, frowning. "Odd. I've never heard of the fountain functioning as a Looking Glass before."  
Mirana drew a slow breath, trying to conceal her excitement. "From the Above? What is her name?"  
"Jane, it is," one of the Tweedles said.  
"Contrariwise, she don't believe it so, nohow," the other replied.  
Mirana frowned. "She doesn't know her own name?"  
"She said she never felt like it fit, Majesty," Nivens broke in, clearly trying to keep the meeting on track.  
"I see," Mirana murmured. "Please, continue."  
"We brought her to Absolem, hoping the Oraculum might reveal some useful information," Uilleam continued the tale. "He told us that Jane was the Champion destined to return the Azure Princess to Marmoreal."  
Lily gasped. "Truly? She'll bring my cousin home?"  
A glorious smile broke out upon Mirana's face. "How wonderful," she sighed. "We have our Champion at last."  
"Where is she now?" Kalen asked, looking no less relieved than his wife.  
"Mallymkun and the girl's Cat, Witzend, took her through the Tulgey Wood to the Hatter," Uilleam replied.  
"Witzend?" Mirana asked. "You said she was an Aboveground girl."  
"Tha's the thing, she don't at all act as an Above," a Tweedle said.  
"She'd been actin' like an Alice might," the other retorted.  
"Contrariwise, she ranted on and ons like the Hatter being."

Mirana felt a wild hope rising in her heart. Underland had sent them their Champion. The Princess would be returned to them, and there was much to do. Gracefully, she stood, smiling as Kalen stood with her and everyone silenced.

"It's certain that our Champion will be brought to Marmoreal with all due haste," she said airily. "We must prepare for their arrival. Sir McTwisp, please make certain that Duke Hightopp's chambers and workshop are opened and aired, and see that everyone is assigned rooms. Order a suite arranged for our Champion- close to mine, if that's possible. We'll also want to make certain the kitchens are prepared for Sir Earwicket's arrival, and Lady Knight Mallymkun's hidey-hole is prepared. Finally, Sir Bayard and his family should patrol our borders, should the travelers require extra protection."  
"Y-Yes, your Majesty," Nivens twitched, bowing before scampering off to perform his duties.

Mirana smiled as the travelers bowed to her and Kalen and took themselves off.

"This is wonderful news," she sighed happily, squeezing Kalen's hand. "We have our Champion."  
"If Tarrant brings her safely," Kalen said.  
"I have always trusted Tarrant with my life, Kalen," Mirana gently rebuked him. "He would not fail, not this."  
"I know it is not a matter of Trust, Mirana," Kalen told her. "But it has been a very long time since he as acted as a Champion, and even Mally and Thackery cannot be sure of Tarrant's mental state anymore. And with the Black Queen in residence…"  
"You fear their Madnesses," Mirana finished for him.  
"It is cause for concern, yes," Kalen said.  
Mirana sighed, acknowledging the point. "If I know Tarrant, he'll set out before the sun is fully risen, and he will make all haste to Marmoreal."  
"But even with Tarrant's formidable fighting skills, Underland is not a safe place to travel," Kalen said.  
"You think we should send a few Pawns to guide them," Mirana said.  
"I think it would be wise, yes," Kalen nodded.  
"May I go as well?" Lily asked hopefully. "I can use a sword as well as any of the Pawns."  
"No, dear," Mirana said gently. "You must remain here, and prepare for our Champion and your cousin. She will have great need of a friend like you."

Lily frowned, but her mother's word was law. Reluctantly curtseying to her parents, she walked out of the audience hall, audibly muttering about how she never got any fun.

"In the meantime, my dear, I believe we have business to tend to," Kalen said, offering Mirana his arm. "And we promised Selena, Aurora and Nerissa a picnic beneath the stars."  
"Of course," Mirana smiled, taking his arm and gathering her skirts in her free hand. "We mustn't disappoint our princesses."  
"No, of course not," Kalen smiled. "Though I fear Draven and Gareth may object."  
Mirana laughed. "They're youngling boys, of course they'll object."

Mirana smiled as they walked towards the door. But her smile dimmed when she caught the veil-covered glance of the Black Queen, who was gliding through the white marble hall on her way indoors. The two Queens gazed at each other for a moment, and Mirana's heart twisted at the utterly pain-filled look in her sister's eyes as she gazed at the White couple. Mirana's eyes filled with tears; what right had she to be so happy when that same happiness had been ripped away from her fellow Queen? Fresh determination to bring the Azure Princess to Marmoreal filled Mirana's heart. When the Princess returned home, the Black Queen's sorrow would be healed, and they would all be happy once again.


	6. Music of the Hightopps

**Author's Note**: There are some chapters that I can sit down and crank out within a couple of hours. The prose flows from my brain to the laptop with nothing lost in translation, and my characters happily do exactly what I want them to. This was not one of those chapters. It's actually one of the rare times that I completely erased everything I'd done, and started over from scratch. My biggest frustration was that, once again, Tarrant utterly refused to cooperate with me. I hadn't indended to reveal my plot twists quite so soon, but… Tarrant's Mad, he's not stupid. He is perfectly able to put cups and leaves together and come up with tea, even if right now he doesn't want to face the brew he's made.

**Naming Game Note**: Gulliver comes from _Gulliver's Travels_, by Jonathan Swift. Luthien comes from the tale of Beren and Luthien, in Tolkien's _Silmarillion_. Scheherazade comes from the name of the storytelling queen in _One Thousand and One Nights_ [often aka'd as _1001 Arabian Nights_]. Ophelia comes from Shakespeare's _Hamlet_.

**Character Name Note**: Regina means queen. Miraget [pronounced meer-AH-get] is a conlgomerate of Mirana and Margaret.

**Hat Note**: Cloches weren't invented [in the Aboveground, at least] until 1908. This story takes place in 1895. Therefore, Jane has no frame of reference for what a cloche is, and that's why she's a bit confused about it.

**Music Note**: The music Jane is hearing on Hightopp Hill is _River Flows In You_ by Yiruma. I don't know why, but it was absolutely perfect for what I wanted.

**Costume Note**: Remove all spaces.

Jane's new dress [but in purple]: http:/ images 4. fanpop. com/ image/ photos/ 16000000/ Alice- in- Wonderland- alice- in- wonderland- 2010- 16094078 -456 -1039. jpg Yes, I fully realize that Tarrant is basically remaking Jane the dress he made for Alice. No, there is no psychologically disturbed subtext here with Tarrant trying to replace Alice with Jane a la _Vertigo_. I just like that dress.

Jane's new hat [but imagine it sky blue with a purple ribbon and lace flower]: http:/ www. fearthosewithless. co. uk/ wp- content/ gallery/ 1920s- hats/ jolie- cloche. jpg

**Where I Stole It From Disclaimer**: Yes, I stole a bit from the musical _Cats_. I figured that given that this is Underland, adventures of talking Cats wouldn't be strange. And yes, I did steal from _The Silmarillion_. Mostly because I like the idea that at least some of our myths and fantasies come from Underlandian history. Yep, I stole the Atlantis myth too. It was too convenient not to use.

**Map Disclaimer**: I did manage to find a map of Underland on fanpop, but I'm making up the topography because honestly, the map wasn't all that helpful. Likewise, I utterly made up the basic characteristics of each kingdom.

**Backstory Disclaimer**: Yes I am severely screwing with canon as pertains to Tarrant's occupation as a Hatter, and the background of the Hightopp clan. I don't have a good excuse for it other than "I thought it was a cool idea." I wanted a reason why there's always been a Hightopp employed at court, and this is what I came up with.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my shiny new beta, Thirteen Thorns [aka'd as -Wings.X-X Prod.] for taking me on!

* * *

The Sun took his own sweet time rising, as if he and Time had colluded to torture Tarrant Hightopp as much as possible. After showing Jane into a guest room and retiring to his own room, which Thackery had kindly conceded to him when he came here after Tiny Alice left as a child, Tarrant had sworn to himself that he was going to court Sleep, and would not leave his room until dawn broke.

He was finding it very hard to keep his promise. Sleep had eluded him, no matter how Tarrant tried to entice her to stay. Finicky lady, Sleep; she was almost as tempermental as Time. He had laid on his back, flopped to his side, his stomach, his other side. He had tried laying with his head at the footboard and his feet at the headboard, stretching diagonally across the mattress, had even tried sleeping sitting up. But none of it had worked. Sleep had simply abandoned Tarrant, leaving him to wait out her sister Night. That shouldn't have been so very hard; Tarrant had become quite good at Waiting. But Time, the heartless beast, had dragged on to nearly the point of stopping altogether. Tarrant had to wonder when Time would ever get over his grudge. Honestly, he hadn't meant that murder attempt! …That particular time. He supposed he could understand Time for being miffed about Tarrant intentionally killing him after Alice left post-Frabjous Day. But to be angry about that first time… he hadn't been killing Time that time, no matter what the Bloody Big Head tried to claim!

Since Time was being, as usual, an ornery opponent, Tarrant had been left to only his Thoughts. It was dangerous to leave Tarrant in Thought's clutches; that way lay the Madness. His mind had been shattered and fragmented after the Horunvendush Day, like a splintered mirror, and for the longest time he hadn't been able to put the pieces back together. When he'd had His Alice, it had been easier; she had become the glue that kept the shards of his psyche together. Since her disappearance, though… the pieces had merely broken back apart and fallen to the floor, and he didn't have the willpower to fix them into a proper Looking Glass again.

He had new motivation now, he told himself. The return of the Azure Princess, the wee little boy he had loved and guarded over since the day he'd learned of the Blue Queen's pregnancy. The appearance of a new Champion could mean nothing other than that the Retiuni Day was coming at last. The Blue Royal Family would be reunited and restored, and Jane would be the one to do it. How could he do anything other than pledge to support her? He had been the Blue Queen's Champion, her Ace of Clubs; he had sworn to give his life to protect the Azure Princess, and he would fulfill those oaths, half-mad or not.

As soon as the sky began to lighten in pre-dawn glow, Tarrant flung himself from the bed. He had slept not at all, but that didn't matter now. There would be plenty of time for sleeping after he'd gotten Jane and the Azure Princess to Marmoreal safely. Until they were safe within the ivory walls of the White Queen's palace, he would focus on one thing and one thing only, and that was recovering the Princess. And perhaps a few passing thoughts, because he couldn't seem to help himself, but those thoughts would be of only truly important things, like tea, and shoes and ships and sealing wax, cabbages and kings and cloches and captains and captions and-

Right. He cut himself off, clearing his throat and shaking his head. He would focus on the Azure Princess. Much as he had for the past… however long it had been, since she was taken from him.

He crossed to the stand in the corner, attending to his morning ablutions absently [without a mirror, of course; Tarrant hated mirrors more than he hated Time]. He found his gaze unfocusing as his mind went back to the Princess. Strange; in the years [it had been years, had it not? Time would not be so churlish as to make it only days… at least, he hoped not…] since her disappearance, Tarrant had continued to think of the Princess as an infant. He supposed he couldn't be faulted for that; that was the only way he'd ever known her. But she most likely wasn't an infant now.

Frowning, he wondered how much of her life he had missed. Was it possible that his beloved little Princess was now a grown woman, ready to be crowned a Queen in her own right? He didn't like that possibility. Far better to imagine her still as a baby, smelling of honeysuckle and sweetness. Yes, it was easier to think of her as the little baby he'd bounced on his knee, the wee little boy whose silken curls had never stayed tidy, whose clever little fingers had unerringly gone for his Hat whenever she found an opportunity. It was easier to think of the bairn he'd known than the great girl he didn't. What would she be like now, he cautiously wondered. Was her lovely hair as untidy as ever? Was she still as curious, her smile as enchanting? The Blue Queen had often said that her daughter had a voice made for singing; did the Princess sing now? Would he recognize the girl the baby had become?

He drew a deep breath, closing off that line of thought with an effort of Alice-ish proportions. Forcing his mind back to the present moment, he prepared to leave. White poet's shirt, his tartan kilt. Plum-colored vest, peacock blue jacket, colorful cravat. Mismatched socks- one white and black striped, the other solid green, and his sturdiest boots. He grabbed his claymore from where it rested against the armoire and strapped it to his back, thankful he'd kept it sharpened and ready ever since the Horunvendush Day.

He popped his Hat on his head, and walked out into the hallway, mind running through the list of supplies they'd need. Food for two to three days, he wagered, in case the journey took longer than it should [even had there been a path, roads in Underland were notoriously strongminded and unreliable; you could end up heading in the complete opposite direction you meant to take, if the roads didn't like you]. Skins for water. A rudimentary tea service, of course. Sewing tools, because you simply never knew. Perhaps a button, for travel games.

Sighing, Tarrant gathered the supplies together and packed them within a few rucksacks. That done, he headed outside to get a feel for the weather… and then froze, frowning in surprise at the riders who had just broken through the forest.

"Duke Hightopp," one of the Pawns said as he dismounted, his high voice oddly discordant with his armor.  
"The White Queen didn't trust her new Champion to the company of a mad man?" Tarrant asked, folding his arms.  
"Oh no, she knows you can get the Champion there with no trouble," the Pawn countered. "She sent us because the land's been… unsettled, lately."  
"Unsettled?" Tarrant asked, frowning.  
The Pawn nodded grimly. "The Trees have been whispering about creatures lurking that ought not to be there. Birds tell of stirrings in the Outlands. Her Majesty doesn't want you to run into any trouble."  
"Very kind of her," Tarrant nodded, giving in resignedly. "We'd be glad of the company, if you don't mind going a circuitous journey."

The Pawn likely would have commented, but something seemed to have caught his attention over Tarrant's shoulder. Tarrant glanced back, to be greeted with the sight of a bemused, distinctly soggy Jane, blinking sleep and tea out of her eyes.

"Oh dear! Are you alright?" Tarrant asked, rushing back to her.  
"Thackery said I was late for tea," Jane said, pushing a wet lock of hair out of her face.  
"Oh goodness," Tarrant said, giggling. "That was terribly naughty of him. Pawns, if you would please secure our provisions while I whip up something a bit drier for our Champion to wear?" Tarrant asked, clapping his hands. "We really must be off, you know."  
"Yes, of course, Duke Hightopp," the Pawn said, bowing.  
"Wonderful! Back in a tick," Tarrant said, sing-song.

He grabbed Jane's hand and hurried back upstairs, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.  
Jane nodded. "Much better than I thought I would, not being in my own bed."  
"Good!" Tarrant nodded. "Now come come, let's get you out of this tea-soaked thing."  
"Do you think the tea will set in the fabric?" Jane asked, worried. "I'm quite fond of that dress."  
"Oh, not at all," Tarrant said. "A little butter and some jam and it will be good as new! It looks very much like a dress Alice used to wear, you know. And just as impractical for traveling," he giggled. "Shall I remake this for you?"  
"Oh, could you?" Jane asked eagerly. "And could you… maybe… would you make me a hat to go with it?"  
Tarrant paused, a delighted look on his face. "You like hats?"  
"I love them," Jane smiled. "They're my favorite thing, apart from tea."  
"How marvelous!" the Hatter grinned. "Yes, you will have a hat to go with this dress. And a wonderful hat it shall be! At least, I hope it shall be wonderful- you see, I haven't been making hats very much anymore, because I've been sitting at the Tea Party waiting for the Princess to find me and that doesn't leave much time for anything else-"  
"Tarrant!"  
"Fez… I'm fine." He shook his head, before refocusing. "Give me just a moment…"

He walked around Jane once, not once reaching for a measuring tape or a dress pattern. But he asked her questions like how many tarts she ate in a day, what she thought of momeraths, and how many bumps were on her skull. Seemingly satisfied with her bewhildered answers, he hurried to his worktable, her dress in his hands. There was a sound of rippening, snickersnacking, and rapid stitches, and moments later the Hatter held up a new creation in delight. The skirt fell only down to Jane's knees, and other than two slight straps had no shoulders. It looked scandalous- and strangely comfortable. The blue sash had been converted into a thin ribbon that went around the hem and under the bustline; the rest of the sash was apparently going to be used to make her hat. She stared at it in amazement for a moment before rushing behind a folding screen to try it on. Two of her three petticoats were found to be unnecessary; when she kicked them away Tarrant pounced on them, claiming he could use them to help make her hat. She hurriedly pulled on the dress, buttoning the little buttons that went up the side, marveling at how light the dress was.

"How do I look?" Jane asked as she emerged, smiling and twirling around.  
"Wonderful!" Tarrant smiled. "All you need is a hat!"

Bowing, he presented her with one. She stared at it in awe; it was unlike any hat she had ever seen. It had been made from the remains of her blue sash, and conformed closely to her head. A scrap of her plum-colored dress had been transformed into a ribbon that went around the hat, and the lace of her petticoats had been twisted and knotted until they formed a small cluster of roses just above her left ear.

"Do you like it?" he asked with a gap-toothed grin.  
"It's wonderful!" she exclaimed, bending forward so he could set it on her head. "What's it called?"  
"A cloche," Tarrant replied, tilting his head in confusion. "Don't you have them Above?"  
"No, I've never seen anything like this before," she said, gently touching the hat. "It's so beautiful. Thank you, Tarrant!"  
"My pleasure, my lady," Tarrant grinned. "Now, shall we be off?"

Jane nodded in affirmation, and ran to her room, gathering up her book and checking to be sure her baby bonnet was still tucked between its pages. Wrapping the book back into her blanket, she picked it up and headed to the door, Witzend following closely- well, prancing was more like it. The Kitten had been prancing ever since she came to Wonderland, due to the sheer pleasure of the difference between being a kitten and being a Kitten.

"What do you think, Witzend?" Jane asked, reaching down to scoop the Kitten into her arms. "Shall we have an adventure?"  
"I think that's a very good idea," Witzend agreed, squirming in Jane's arms. "Since that's what we've been brought here to do."  
Grinning, Jane skipped down the stairs, humming to herself. "We're ready!" she announced as she landed in the living room.  
"Wonderful!" Tarrant grinned. "Now, shall we take that parcel of yours and tuck it safe in one of these packs?"  
"I think that's a good idea," Jane nodded, easily relinquishing her precious cargo.

Tarrant froze the moment he touched the fabric, eyes widening in shock. He knew this fabric- remembered the exact shade of blue, the feel of the thread beneath his fingers, the scent that even now faintly clung to the cloth. This was Alice fabric, taken from the dress she'd left behind in the Room of Doors. McTwisp had brought it to him, after Alice defeated the Jabberwocky and left. And later, it had become…

"Tarrant?" Jane broke into his thoughts curiously.

He cut that line of thought off immediately. He didn't have time for that memory, or the bout of Madness it would cause. Perhaps when they stopped tonight, he could take a closer look at the fabric, and take the time to wonder how on earth it had come into Jane's possession.

"Yes, yes of course! I'm fine," he said hastily, quickly tucking Jane's parcel into one of the packs strapped to the stallion he'd be riding. "Let's be off!"  
"To Marmoreal, my lord?" the Pawn asked.  
"No, to Hightopp Hill," Jane corrected him.  
"Hightopp Hill?" he asked, glancing past Jane to Tarrant.  
"Aye," Tarrant nodded grimly, his brogue deepening his voice. "Th' lass says we'll fin' th' Princess thaur."  
"That takes us quite a ways away from Marmoreal," the Pawn said uneasily. "And close to the Outlands."  
"Can ye nae handle 'at, laddie?" Tarrant asked, smirking faintly.  
"Is it that far from Marmoreal?" Jane asked, frowning.  
"It's not close, Miss," the Pawn confirmed. "The site's not even that close to the Blue Royals' old castle, so we won't be able to stop there for the night."  
"Which is jist an aw," Tarrant said darkly. "There's nae reason tae stir up those ghosts."

The Pawn inclined his head, acknowledging the point and the warning implicit within, while Jane glanced between the two men uneasily, wondering what undercurrents to this conversation she was missing. But before she could question either of them, another Pawn stepped forward and boosted her onto her horse, and all of Jane's attention was taken with getting used to the mount. The mare, while seemingly gentle, was still at least two hands taller than any she had ridden Above, and Jane wasn't the largest of girls. She hoped she would be able to keep the animal under control…

"Who are you this morning, love?" Tarrant lisped as as Thackery and Mally tumbled out of the house.  
"Gulliver, I think," Jane said thoughtfully, before a giggle broke out on her face. "Why is it that adventurers are always male?"  
"That's only in the Aboveground, lass," Tarrant said. "Here they can be either."  
"Like Alice," one of the Pawns put in. "She's probably the most famous adventuress we've got."  
"Who is this Gulliver?" Tarrant asked hastily, not wanting to dwell on His Alice just now.

Jane dove headlong into the story of Gulliver's travels as they began their journey, Mally quite happily perched on Tarrant's Hat. When she'd finished regaling them with that tale, so strange it could almost be said to be Underlandian in origin, Tarrant reciprocated by telling her Underlandian legends of swashbucklers and adventuring ladies. Griddlebones the feline pirate, the tale of Rismelda the famous Bat, even legends of the land that had sunk into the sea. Legend had it that survivors of that cataclysm had been the ones to colonize Underland, and founded the Royal Dynasties of Underland, of which only the Adamasi- the White Royals of Marmoreal- remained. One tale, that of the love of the mortal Beren and the elf princess Luthien, charmed Jane so much that she declared she was trying Luthien's name on for size for a while.

The way they were taking went straight through the Tulgey Wood. Jane had thought that the wood would seem lighter and not as menacing during the daytime; she was proven wrong. Hardly any sunlight penetrated the forest canopy, and what little light there was seemed tinged blue, instead of green as she would have expected. The trees were just as gnarled and twisted, and she was glad she was no longer traveling alone. Her companions seemed to know their way through the forest perfectly well, gloom or no gloom, and Jane was happy to follow their lead.

"What is the rest of Wonderland like?" Jane asked curiously. "I've only seen the garden and the wood."

With an indulgent smile at Jane's willful misuse of his homeland's name- so very much like His Alice!- Tarrant described the layout to her, including bits of history about the lands and their people. As he spoke, Jane listened, amazed; she hadn't realized just how _big_ Underland was, or how full to bursting with life it was. And this was just a portion of Underland; there were other countries across the Sea, which no one in the traveling party had ever been to. Would she ever have the opportunity to travel to _every_ country in Underland, she wondered?

There was the Crimson Sea, which sounded so menacing and forbidding but was actually quite beautiful and smelled of roses. In past years, the sea had run red with the blood of those the Bloody Big Head had beheaded, but when Mirana regained her crown, one of her first acts had been to restore the Sea. There were numerous villages along the edge of the sea, some for fishing, others for trading with lands beyond the Sea. They were rough people, but unfailingly loyal to the White Queen, who had restored their livelihood to them.

Most of those sea villages were in the kingdom of Crims; from what Jane understood, most of Crims' wealth had come from fishing and sea trade, although there was also money to be made from the lumber that came from the southern forest. Apart from the sea and the woods, most of Crims lay barren, having been laid to waste in the years of Iracebeth's rule. The magic had been steadily eking out of the ground since the last Red Queen took the crown, leading to the death of the kingdom. But, the Pawns informed Jane, it was the High Queen's plan to crown the Azure Princess the next Queen of Crims, and upon her Queenmaking the Princess would be gifted with the resources to restore the kingdom to glory.

The western kingdom of Witzend, which had once been ruled by the Blue Queen and Sapphire King from the Cerulean Castle, held particular interest for Jane, seeing as she was attempting to find the Blue Royals' daughter. The land had a very short history as a unified kingdom; for most of Underland's history Witzend had existed as a loosely allied group of city-states. The largest holdings in Witzend had been the Hightopp lands of Iplam. As a matter of fact, the only dynasty that had ever ruled Witzend as a unified kingdom had been the Blue Royals, and even they had only reigned for seven years or so before being obliterated. Since the disappearance of the entire Blue Royal family, Mirana had been holding the throne in trust. If the Blues couldn't be reunited, Mirana would place her second-eldest daughter Aurora upon the throne. Not for the first time, Jane wondered what had happened to the Blue Royals, and why Alice, as the High Queen's Champion, hadn't been there to stop it.

About the Outlands, Tarrant said nothing but the name and the fact that it was no place for a bonny lass like herself. The Pawns added that the Outlands were where the exiled were banished to, and that other breeds of creatures lived out there- creatures who might once have been related to Underlandian Animals, but who had been twisted and become evil. When Tarrant rode ahead to take his turn as scout, one of the Pawns whispered to Jane that Tarrant had gone into the Outlands alone in a desperate attempt to find the Azure Princess, back when she'd first disappeared. What adventures or calamities had occurred to him there, no one knew, but upon his return he had announced that there was no use in searching for the Princess any longer; they would have to wait for her to return to them.

There was the southern kingdom of Snud, famed mostly for its superior animal husbandry. There had once been a healthy trade between Witzend and Snud; the artisans would take Snudian animal pelts and turn them into cloth and leather, and in return the Snudians would buy Witzend's luxury items. The trade had expanded exponentially after the Blue Queen was crowned, Tarrant had said. When the Blue Royals had disappeared, fortunes had been lost. King Shepard and Queen Lamia, the Russet Royals, had been trying to restore their kingdom, but while trade foundered they were fighting a losing battle.

The eastern kingdom of Queast was the agricultural hub of Underland. While of course every region had their own farms and specialty crops, it was widely acknowledged that the finest foodstuffs came from Queast. Oddly enough, Queast was also the home of Underland's finest soldiers; the backbone of Underland's armies came from this region. Queast, like Witzend, had no real history of kingship; unlike Witzend, the Queastians had refused to crown a single ruler. Queast was divided into five regions, and the leaders of the regions- known as Sharafs- would meet once a month to settle disputes and make decisions.

And finally, Marmoreal, seat of the White Royals, the Adamasai. The Pawns took over the talking here, almost bursting with pride as they described the Palace to an enchanted Jane. Marmoreal was the cultural center of Underland, bursting with museums, theatre, art, music, and everything beautiful. All of the best artists and craftsmen came to Marmoreal eventually, to learn at the feet of the masters and to produce works of art for their beautiful and gracious High Queen. Someday, the White Princess Lily Palladia would take over for Mirana, ruling in her stead as Queen.

Jane was utterly captivated by the descriptions of the wonders of her Wonderland. How she wished she had the time to explore it all for herself! Well, perhaps after she'd delivered the Azure Princess to her family, she would be allowed to undertake that particular quest. Just how she was supposed to find the Princess… well, she had plenty of time to figure that out.

When they had ceased their stories, Jane was informed that it was her turn to describe the Aboveground. She was quick to protest that she had only left England once, and that was as a young girl with her foster family, to join her foster father for a time in India. However, Tarrant could not be swayed; it had been too long since he had heard His Alice's stories of her home world.

So, with a quick change of her name to Scheherazade, Jane took her turn at storytelling. She told them of pastoral, straightlaced England, of the somber, gray Atlantic Ocean. She told them of the exotic, heady India, with its teas and its colorful fabrics. She told them about the places she had always wanted to visit- the rolling green hills of Ireland, the vast deserts of Egypt, the Turkish bazaars, the refined, cultured beauty of Japan. She told them about English balls, demonstrating dances like the dreaded quadrille and the lovely waltz, and the beautiful music of the Classics, the Baroques, the Romantics. She told them about her favorite author, Oscar Wilde, about her heroines Empress Sisi and Queen Victoria, of the beautiful romance between Victoria and Prince Albert.

She was still talking as they walked into a dark, seared clearing, where the sky was split between day and night [despite the fact that the sun had steadily been setting and she was sure it was around suppertime], and then the words- and her very breath- were stolen from her. The clearing was the sight of utter devastation. Charred, falling-down remains and scorched earth were all that remained of what once must have been a beautiful clearing.

"Welcome tae Hightopp Brae, mah quine," Tarrant growled in his Outlandish brogue, his eyes growing topaz with remembered anger and pain.

A pain such as Jane had never known before in her life crushed her heart and grew in her chest, threatening to rip her apart. She took in the utter devastation with wide eyes, each new site ripping a new wound in her heart. She glanced up at Tarrant, seeing the same pain [only magnified a thousandfold] reflected back at her.

"Oh, Tarrant," she whispered. "It's so horrible."

He turned away from her brusquely, dark black circles growing around his eyes as Outlandish began pouring from his lips. Recognizing the impending spell of Madness, Mally hopped off Tarrant's Hat to rest on Thackery's head, yanking on one of his ears.

"Go on an' find the Princess," Mally said to Jane. "We'll stay 'ere with the 'atta."

Nodding numbly, Jane took her first stumbling, halting steps into the midst of the site where the Hightopp clan had been destroyed. Not a single structure had been left standing; everywhere she looked was utter ruin. With a sigh that seemed to come from her very toes, she sank onto the ground, staring unseeing over the remains. She felt the loss of this place, and it didn't matter that she had never met the Hightopps, never seen this field when it was beautiful. And it had been beautiful, of that she was certain. The trees had been an explosion of blossoms and leaves and fruits, flowers had dotted the grass with soft splotches of color, the air had been sweetly perfumed and spiced with laughter. Children had run through the field chasing bread-and-butterflies, while the young ladies and dashing bucks had chased each other for entirely different reasons while the adults traded wares and skills and gossip. She could see it all as if it were happening right before her eyes. And it felt… it felt like family. The shades of the Hightopps who had been massacred here whispered to her, singing melodies in her ears.

No, wait… she really was hearing a melody. A low humming, as if the earth itself were singing to her. She closed her eyes, to better hear the music. It sang her a lullaby, a welcoming, a song of protection and love. The song belonged to the land… the music _was_ the land. They were inescapably bound, and by hearing the music, she was bound to the land, and always would be. Drawing a deep breath and keeping her eyes closed, she began to hum along with the music, her fingers moving on the ground as if playing the piano. She listened to the music changing, fascinated as it looped back on itself, endlessly repeating but never sounding the same.

At the edge of the clearing, Tarrant's head shot up. Mally's attempts to bring him back to himself, Thackery's nervous twitching… all faded into insignificance as he heard Jane humming. He stood without realizing that he was moving, walking towards her, each step leaving him with the fear that he was about to shatter into a million pieces. His eyes were fixated on her, his ears unable to believe what he was hearing.

The music… that beautiful music… _how could she hear the music_?

She shouldn't have been able to hear it. Even if she was the destined Champion, no one but a Hightopp could hear the music of this hill…

And then it hit him.

No, it couldn't be. There was no way… It was mad… crazy… Impossible!

_Sometimes I believe in six Impossible Things before breakfast…_

He shook his head, trying to shake the Thought loose. It was too much, he couldn't face the Possibility right now. Right now, he had to focus on surviving the night here, and then getting Jane to Marmoreal as quickly as possible. Perhaps, once they were there, then he could focus on the Thought that was still trying to wiggle into the forefront of his consciousness despite how fiercely he was trying to keep it locked away. Then he would be free to look at it carefully, as he might look at raw materials, and maybe then he could slowly piece the parts together until he had a full hat. Until then, the Truth- _hush, Thought, you aren't the Truth and that's that!_- had to remain in his mind, there to torture him with the Knowledge of it.

"Lassie?" he croaked.

Jane turned, looking at him over her shoulder. He swallowed to see that there were tears in her eyes.

"I don't much feel like Scheherazade anymore," she sniffed.  
"Oh? Who're you now?" he asked warily.  
"Ophelia, I think. So much sadness, everything gone…" She shook her head. "Though with this music, I suppose I should feel more like someone's beloved, fair lady love. It's so beautiful," she whispered, her voice thick with the tears that hadn't yet made it to her eyes.  
"It's the Music of the Hightopps," he forced the words out around the frog in his throat.  
"How?" she asked.

He sighed, sinking onto the ground beside her, resting his arms on his knees and bowing his head. For a moment they just sat there, lost in the music, while he chased after his Thoughts. Ironic, really; once upon a time he had hoped to bring his wee little Princess here, to tell her the stories of his home and his family. And now he was going to tell them to an Aboveground girl, and not even _his_ Above girl. And yet, if Jane could truly hear the Music, she had every right to know the story he had been saving for the Princess.

Oh blast, there went the Thought again… _Quiet, you!_

"There was a kingdom, over the Crimson Sea," he began softly, as much to quiet his mind as to inform Jane. "A kingdom so beautiful and advanced that it made Marmoreal look like a village of straw huts. They had… your Above people would call it a type of magic… woven into the land, the air, the water. It gave them strength, drew them together, blessed their endeavors. The kingdom was lost beneath the sea, but some managed to escape, including one of the High Princes of that land. He and his people came to Underland and took it for their own. And in gratitude to the man who had saved his life, King Devi gave this land to Corianth Hightopp and his family, to be theirs in perpetuity. The music you're hearing… it's… it's the magic of the Hightopps. It's the magic that protects this land, that was… that was supposed to protect…"

A violent sob shook Jane's shoulders as she bowed her head and cried again. Tarrant, his eyes the most colorless gray, looked out over the land, wishing he could hate the music spell that hadn't been strong enough to protect his family, but unable to hate it because he loved it so.

"Not all of the Hightopps lived here all at once," he continued after a moment. "There were too many of us. We started to migrate all over Witzend, and then all of Underland, offered our services to the Royal Families. Powerful services they were, too." He paused for a moment, one burned finger trailing in the charred earth. "Do you know why it's so important for a Royal to have a Hatter?"

Mutely, Jane shook her head, blinking back more tears. Tarrant nodded, staring down at the earth as he drew a painful breath.

"What does a hat do?" he asked her.  
"It… sits on a person's head," Jane said slowly.  
"Exactly," Tarrant said. "It sits on a person's head… it _protects_ their head. Protects their mind. A perfectly made hat reminds the wearer of who they truly are, helps them stay true to themselves." He paused a moment to let that sink in. "A Royal Hatter, if they make their hats properly, protects the mind of their sovereign. Without a Hatter, the Royal will go just as Mad as everyone else."

There was silence for a long moment as Jane processed that information. He looked around, tilting his head as he listened to the music.

"Anyways… We didn't all live here. But for certain occasions, every Hightopp in Underland would gather here to celebrate, to… to be together. Leaving the Hill allowed us to spread our wares all over Underland, brought our clan fame and fortune. But at a high price. The further we went from the Hill, the farther we were from the music. Not hearing the music gradually weakened us, and weakened the magic that protected the land in the first place."  
"Horunvendush Day?" Jane breathed.  
Tarrant bowed his head. "We were going to replenish the magic, and our strength. The laird of the clan has the power to start singing the music, and then every Hightopp joins in. That was… it was my athair, Wendym. Da was the laird at the time, and one of the greatest the clan had ever seen. He and my mam Silyna had just opened the ceremonies. There was dancing, juggling, merrymaking. We were all supposed to sing… And instead…"

He sighed, wishing he couldn't remember the purple lightning of the Jabberwocky, the utter devastation the monster had unleashed. How he wished that he could forget the looks on his family's faces before they were vaporized before his very eyes as he chose to save Mirana over saving them.

"What you're hearing, it's just an echo. The music can never be replenished again," he finished dully.  
"Why not?" Jane asked. "There's still one Hightopp left, and if you were the son of the laird… that means you're the laird now."  
Tarrant shook his head. "It's not enough. You need at least two Hightopps, male and female. If the Azure Princess were here…"  
Jane stared as that sank in. "The Azure Princess is your daughter, isn't she?"

Tarrant bowed his head, and Truth settled heavily over them. Jane stared at Tarrant as it became clear. That was why he was so very devoted to the Princess' memory, why he had protected her so carefully and suffered so fiercely with her loss. The others were mourning the loss of a princess, the loss of their hopes for Underland. Tarrant was mourning the loss of his beloved child.

Jane swallowed hard, laying her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso. "What is her name?" she asked softly.

There was a long moment of silence, and Jane doubted if Tarrant had even heard her. Or, if he had heard her, perhaps he wasn't going to answer. Then his head rose, and he looked her in the eye as he wrapped his arms around her protectively.

"Regina," he finally said. "Her name is Regina Miraget Hightopp."  
"Regina," she repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. "I'm going to find her, Tarrant. I promise."


	7. About a Girl

**Author's Note**: It was while I was getting ready to write this chapter that Jane's story began to lengthen. Originally, there was going to be a gap of about three years between the last two chapters of this story. Because I thought that was a ludicrous time jump even for me, I came up with a little twist that I thought would add a couple of extra chapters. One day of brainstorming later, I had a trilogy on my hands. Mostly because it took me that much plot to get all my adventures in, and to force in the bits that I actually wanted to happen.

This chapter was another of those really disjointed writing processes, where it took me three days of stop-and-start, paragraph at a time work. When it was done, I went back and added in the first scene. When I sat down to prepare this chapter for editing, I added in two additional POVs before I was actually happy with what I had. So if this chapter is really choppy, that's why, and I'm sorry.

**Why It's Happening Note**: A few things happen in this chapter that I'm sure seem OOC, or just completely ludicrous. So let me quickly[ish] circumvent the arguments.

In this chapter, Tarrant's finally going to reveal why Alice isn't around. Um… please don't kill me. When I was writing this story, I did a little research about parents of abducted children, and I found that the parents' relationship suffers profoundly as a result. Given my research, what happened to Tarrant and Alice is plausible, despite all our fangirl wishes to the contrary. Before you try to take off my head… I did promise to eventually fix everything I've broken.

I didn't originally intend for Witzend to have her own subplot. She was just supposed to function as Jane's cuddly tie to London. However, when I was going back through the plot of Books Two and Three, I realized that the way I'd written certain events made much more sense when Witzend did the actions. This meant that I had to invent Witzend a subplot. And let me tell you what, it's hell having to go back through a story and retroactively put a plot in place. Also, change is a big theme in this story, and I decided that Witzend is going to be a part of the changes in Underland. Hence, Witzend and the Cheshire Cat now have a subplot.

Dafydd's POV was a last-minute decision. Originally, we weren't supposed to meet him until chapter eleven. Then he jumped the gun and thrust himself into the story early, so I had to go ahead and keep finding places to put him. I miss the days when he was content to sit in the background… okay, not really. But still. Stubborn, demanding Outlander… Yes, this "stubborn, demanding Outlander" is going to become a repeating lament in my Author's Notes.

Jane's reaction to Alice may seem a bit… unexpected. But there's a reason for that; the relationship between Jane and Alice is a big factor in the rest of the trilogy, but I didn't really do a good job of building it up when I first wrote this story. So I've gone back to find places to lay that foundation down before Alice makes her grand entrance.

**Underlandian Medical Note**: When Tarrant refers to a birthing-tie, he means an umbilical cord.

**Images**: Because finding images is my favorite part of research. Remove all spaces.

The mirror Jane dreams about: http:/ ny- image 0. etsy. com/ il_ fullxfull. 118555052. jpg

Dream-Regina's gown [but in sky blue, not gold]: http:/ www. kshs. org/ exhibits/ partydresses/ graphics/ 1956_ 13_ 25. jpg

Dream-Regina's jewelry: http:/ www. softsellcrafts. com/ linkbutterflieslarge. jpg

Dream-Regina's Hat [but in sky blue, plum, and gold]: http:/ ny- image 2. etsy. com/ il_ 570 x N. 159943210. jpg

The dream Jane has of Regina is inspired by this picture: http:/ fc 02. deviantart. net/ fs 71/ f/ 2010/ 349/ a/1/ alice_ hightopp_ by_ balba_ bunny-d 34 ye 2 g. jpg

**Disclaimer**: Tarrant's story about Regina at birth is inspired by real events- my own little sister grabbed everything at birth, including her umbilical cord and the doctor's scissors.

I kind of borrowed the looking glass in Jane's dream from the Mirror of Erised in _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. Weirdly enough, it's also kind of inspired by the peach-induced sexy fever dream sequence from _Labyrinth_.

I massacred a bit of Shakespeare during Tarrant's POV- it's from the Scottish play. Appropriate, no?

There's a bit in Dafydd's POV that is lifted almost verbatim from an episode of _Doctor Who_. I didn't exactly intend for that to happen; after all, Dafydd is no Van Gogh. But somehow, it ended up being incredibly appropriate.

* * *

Tarrant and Jane sat in silence for long moments, the music-magic of the murdered Hightopp clan resounding gently as Regina's name echoed between them. _Regina_, Jane mused, turning the name over and over in her mind. She liked it, she decided; the name suited the missing princess. She liked knowing it; knowing her proper name made the princess seem more like a real, flesh-and-blood person. It was, after all, easier to find a person named Regina Miraget Hightopp than to find a memory named the Azure Princess. Regina made the princess sound like a friend, just waiting for Jane to find her.

"Would you… would you tell me about her?" Jane asked hesitantly, looking up at Tarrant.

Tarrant was silent for a long moment, his deadened, charcoal grey eyes far away and long ago. Jane sat quietly beside him, hoping that he would speak when he was ready. Surely it must be difficult for him to think about his kidnapped daughter, let alone speak of her; for him it must have been as painful as drawing poison from a wound. But she knew, with some inner sixth sense, that he would tell her about his beloved child in his own time. Until then, Jane was content to sit beside him, listening to the Music of the Hightopps and letting the magic soothe the pain she felt at the clan's destruction.

"She was born on Tikiera Day," Tarrant finally said, hesitantly, as if probing the wound to ascertain just how sore it was. "Such a wee little thing… all eyes, she was. I was there when she was born… I was the first thing she saw. I can't imagine it was a very pretty sight for her; it must have startled her very much to see something like me, all wild hair and mercury burns and-"  
"Tarrant," Jane frowned.

She wasn't happy hearing Tarrant abuse himself like that. What more wonderful sight could a babe have upon entering the world, than the face of an adoring father? It was perfect, in her mind.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue. "She was just as beautiful as her mother. And just as stubborn. From the second she was born, she grabbed things and wouldn't let go. My finger, her birthing-tie, the White Queen's hair, her mother… Almost as if she knew she'd be stolen, and she was trying to hang on to her world."

Tarrant looked down at his gloved hands, blinking back tears and trying to collect himself. Jane didn't press him, instead savoring the image of the little Princess' greedy fingers. Jane couldn't say she blamed the infant Regina; if she'd had any hint that she wouldn't be allowed to stay here long she'd cling to anything she could grab, too.

"She loved being outside, in the gardens," Tarrant continued. "I used to take her out there every morning, while the Blue Queen was holding court. She liked to hear the flowers singing and talking. When she got a bit older, I'd take her into my workshop with me. She'd lie on the chaise and play with scraps of fabric while I worked. Sometimes it looked like she was imitating me, trying to make hats. She was clever like that."

Jane smiled at that; she didn't doubt that a child of Tarrant's wouldn't follow in his footsteps, princess or no. She sensed the painful part of the story was coming soon, and she was reluctant to hear it. She wasn't sure she could bear to hear about this happy family being ripped apart.

"The White Queen came to see us, one day," Tarrant said heavily. "The Oraculum was going erratic, she said. As if someone were trying to alter the future. Red Knights returning to Underland… Outlanders raiding Witzend… the rising of a new King… The only thing she saw that never changed was the Princess being spirited away, and then… she would disappear from the Oraculum altogether. That can only happen when an Underlandian is taken out of Underland, either to the Outlands, or across the Sea, or… or taken Above." Tarrant swallowed hard. "Mirana was afraid that agents of the Bluddy Behg Hid were going to steal Regina and bring her to the Outlands to be killed, or maybe corrupted into supporting the Bloody Red Queen."

He fell silent again, staring out over the ruins of the hill. Jane shivered beside him; no one had told her that Regina had been in danger when she disappeared. Was it possible that she had been stolen by the Red Queen? Could she possibly be dead? Was that why Jane was here, to save Regina before she was murdered by Iracebeth? Or could she have been summoned to avenge the princess' death?

"The Blue Queen refused to send Regina Above," Tarrant said. "She said that was no sort of protection at all; Regina would forget who she was, how to get home again. She ordered Mallymkun and her Knights to watch over Regina at all times; the army of Clubs was spread all over the borders of Witzend to look for invaders. But the days passed, and the Oraculum still showed Regina disappearing. The Queen was becoming frantic with worry, so I… I proposed another option. I would take the Princess to somewhere safe- not even the White or Blue Queens would know where we were. I would raise Regina in secret, and when she was old enough and could defend herself, we would return." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Regina was taken the night before we were to leave. Stolen from her cradle in the middle of the night."  
"Oh, Tarrant," Jane whispered, her green eyes filling with tears again. "How horrible."

Tarrant stared down at the ground, one pale finger tracing idle patterns into the charred earth. He fell quiet for a long minute, and from his erratic breathing Jane realized he was trying to keep from weeping. He drew a long, labored breath, then continued.

"Alice and I began fighting," he admitted quietly. "She blamed me for a faulty plan that had never had a hope of working. I blamed her for not allowing Regina to go to her relatives Above. We said… terrible things to each other. Horrible, hurtful things. We should have been supporting each other; instead, we tore each other into ragged scraps and frayed threads. Alice left Witzend and searched every inch of Underland. While she was gone, I went to the Outlands. When I came back, Alice was gone."  
"Gone? Gone where?" Jane asked, unsure if she'd heard Tarrant correctly.  
Tarrant shook his head. "I don't know. I searched for her, but I never heard a whisper of news, never found a button or a thread of hair to tell me where she'd gone. She could be in the Aboveground, or in some Otherland. I don't know."

He fell silent as his story ended, and for a long time they just sat there. Jane was struck dumb with Tarrant's story; how absolutely horrible for him. To have his daughter stolen the night before she was to be taken to safety… to then lose his Alice once again… How had he endured it? How had he found the strength and will to carry on, to wait for them to return to him?

She didn't say anything aloud in deference to Tarrant, but within the safety of her own mind, Jane was incensed. How could Alice be so utterly selfish? How could she treat Tarrant so cruelly? How could she place full blame for their daughter's disappearance on his shoulders, when she might have saved Regina from danger by allowing her to go to the Aboveground? What sort of hero was Alice, what kind of Champion? She felt her admiration of Alice dwindling by the second. How could she admire someone who could be so utterly heartless- and to Tarrant of all people, the only one in Underland who had never ceased believing in her, the man who had done so much for her? How could she destroy him like that and still call herself any sort of heroine?

"And… neither of them has ever shown up in the Oraculum?" she ventured.  
"Never," Tarrant said dully. "Of Alice, the Oraculum shows nothing but a shadow figure. Absolem always foretold that Regina would return on Retiuni Day, but the Oraculum never showed that. It's always been completely blank- as if someone hadn't yet made the decision or taken the action to allow that Day to come to pass. Now you've come to Underland… it's all there now, so I'm told."  
"It is there," Jane said quietly. "The Oraculum shows Regina standing before the two Queens, and you, a crown on her head."

Tarrant turned to look at her then, and Jane's breath was taken away with the force of the plea in his eyes. He looked at her as if his entire life, mind and being depended on her- which, she had to admit, was pretty close to the truth. The force of his plea stole her breath away, and filled her with utter determination. She wouldn't fail him, not like Alice had.

"The Oraculum shows that Regina is going to be found," he said, sounding desperate, as if he were clinging to the promise of that day. "But it doesn't say how."  
"Well, I haven't figured that bit out yet," Jane said, trying to sound confident. "But I'm going to find her. I promise."

* * *

The sky over Iplam never really changed; it was still half gloomy night, half bloody sunset. Had she had the extra room in her brain to contemplate this, Jane would have thought that while eerie, the sky certainly did reflect her mood. Half of her was gloomy, mourning with Tarrant over the death of his clan and aching for the losses and betrayals he had suffered, while the other half of her was seeing red at Alice's behavior. And overlaying her every emotion was the Music of the Hightopps, easing her grief, soothing her out of her anger, welcoming her to this barren land, making her feel loved and included. Despite how painful the Music could become at points, Jane was certain she could spend a lifetime listening to and loving the Song of Hightopp Hill.

But at some point, Jane's mind decided that it was nighttime, and thus time for her to curl up and go to sleep. Tarrant assured her that she would be safe; Mally had taken first watch, and the Dormouse would be quick to stick her hatpin into anything that wasn't supposed to be there. Thus reassured, Jane pulled out a blanket from one of the packs and curled up on it, the Music of the Hightopps easing her to sleep as she curled up around her Kitten.

_At first there were only blotches of color. Whites, pinks, greens, a blob of blue lazily passing by. Slowly, the colors began to sharpen and resolve themselves into definite shapes. They were flowers, she realized. Flowers without faces, gently fluttering in a warm spring breeze. She was sitting in a lush garden, and the blob of blue was Absolem, who danced and flitted about her head, always staying just out of the reach of her chubby fingers. It was a game they played often, she vaguely realized; as sardonic and crusty as the Butterfly could be, he held a soft spot for her, and often came to play with her._

_Nimble, long fingers, burned, bandaged, and be-thimbled, passed into her line of vision, tickling the sensitive skin at her neck before moving to the blossoms. A flower was dangled before her face- a pale, beautiful pink iris. She cooed, gurgling her approval, and reached her hand out towards the petals. In some part of her mind- the part that knew this to be a dream- she registered that they weren't her hands; they were the fingers of an infant. But most of her consciousness was caught up in the baby's fascination with the flower, which always bobbed away just when she thought she'd grabbed it. She giggled, wriggling in the arm of whoever held her, delighted with the game._

_She felt the arm supporting her shift, and she was tucked more securely against someone's- a man's- chest. She gurgled in approval, wriggling to get even more comfortable as her tiny fist closed around a dark green velveteen lapel. She was wrapped in the comforting scents of a thousand fabrics and a million teas, her ears filled with a warm, familiar brogue._

"_Ye loch th' iris, dornt ye, Regina? Ye wee li'l boy, jist loch yer maw. She'll graw up an' th' flowers will ne'er be silen' fer 'er."_

_The infant hand that wasn't clutching the Hatter's jacket shot back out towards the flower as a tinkling, silver bells laugh issued from her lips. No, not her lips; Regina's lips. Jane was dreaming of Regina, probably thanks to Tarrant's stories; this had to be the gardens of the Cerulean Castle in Witzend. She would have tried to take more control of the dream, but a soft voice laced with warmth and laughter stopped her dead in her metaphorical tracks._

"_At least when she runs off we'll always know where to look for her."_

_Jane's- Regina's- head turned towards the left, and all thoughts of the flower and the Hatter were knocked out of her mind as both her arms rose towards her mother. Her beautiful, perfect, blue and gold mother…_

_Just as the Blue Queen approached, the images began to blur again, until she was only seeing blobs of color. Then even the colors disappeared, and Jane found herself mindlessly walking through a gray fog. She knew she was lost; she needed to find a way out… Holding her skirts in one hand and her cloche in place with the other, she began running in no direction in particular. The enveloping warmth of love and contentedness began to eke away, slowly at first, then faster and faster as panic and loneliness began encroaching on her heart. The faster she ran, the more afraid she became, until she was lost in a maelstrom of negativity._

_The fog began to lighten, turning once again into indistinct blobs of color that resolved themselves this time into bushes, trees, a grassy lawn, gray, overcast skies that threatened an absolute deluge of rain and lightning. Instead of plum-colored, the skirts Jane clutched were now white and frilly, the dress starched within an inch of its life. Swallowing hard, she looked around. She knew where she was; this wasn't a dream of Regina, it was a memory of Jane's._

_Mud caked the soles of her tiny shoes and the hem of her dress and pinafore. Her hair had fallen out of its restraining ribbon, and tears streaked down her chubby cheeks. She was cold and wet and terribly frightened, but she didn't stop running through her foster parents' gardens. How could she stop? She was lost, she had lost the door, she had to find it again…_

"_Pwease," she heard her three-year-old self whimper, lisping. "Pwease, I need to find the doow… I wanna go home…"_

_She began running again, and as she ran she heard her toddler's lisping supplications become her own tremulous pleas. The three-year-old's dirty dress became her own Tarrant-made traveling dress and cloche hat, and the Ascots' garden was once again a meaningless plane of swirling gray fog._

"_Wa ur ye cryin', lass?"_

_Jane stopped running when she heard the Hatter's Outlandish brogue. Her eyes darted around frantically, but there was no sign of him in this unending mist._

"_I need to go home," she said. "Please, Tarrant, I can't find my way home."  
"But ye __**ur**__ haem, silly lassie," came the enigmatic reply._

_Jane turned, gasping in surprise as she found herself staring at a mirror that hadn't been there two seconds previously. It was a large mirror, a shape not quite rectangular but not quite oval, set in an elaborate gold frame. The gold was formed into fanciful swirls and whorls, and clusters of flowers at each corner. On the top of the gilt frame rested a blue butterfly. He fixed his gaze on Jane, as if urging her to step closer. Swallowing hard, she took a tentative step forward, lowering her eyes from Absolem to the looking glass._

_A face stared back at her- an image that could almost have been her own, but the mirror was hazy, the features indistinct. The young woman in the looking glass stood with a regal grace, her posture perfect enough to satisfy even Lady Ascot. Her red-gold hair was neatly swept up off her face in an elegant updo. Her skin was even paler than Jane's, and her green eyes loomed large in her face. She was dressed in what looked like a ball gown from the 1870s- sleeveless, sky blue, her waist cinched within an inch of its life. The skirt was swept back into a generous bustle and train, the front of the gown embroidered, shirred, and tucked. Perched atop her head was an elaborate top hat, made of sky blue, purple, and gold fabrics. A golden ribbon was wrapped around the hat and pinned with a gold and sapphire butterfly brooch; a peacock feather had been tucked into the ribbon. A sky blue veil fell over the brim of the hat and delicately shaded half the woman's face. Around her neck, wrist, and in her ears was silver jewelry inlaid with a blue stone Jane had never seen before, crafted to look like delicate butterflies._

"_Please," she said, her lovely voice trembling in supplication. "Please help me."  
"Regina?" Jane breathed, her breath catching as the woman nodded. "Where are you?"  
"I'm trapped in here," the woman said. "Please, help me out. I want to go home."_

_Jane placed a hand on the mirror, finding its surface as liquid as the looking glass in her room had been. She plunged both hands into the misty mirror, trying to grab the lovely woman to free her from her horrible prison, but no matter how she tried she couldn't catch the woman's hands. As she stepped back from the mirror, she tried to catch sight of the imprisoned princess again, but instead she saw herself, now garbed in Regina's clothes, Hat, and jewelry._

"_That's not me," Jane said, stepping back from the mirror hastily, staring down at herself to be sure she still wore her own plum-colored dress and sky blue cloche.  
"Not hardly," Absolem agreed, fluttering down to perch upon Jane's shoulder. "This is who you're meant to find. This is Regina, the Azure Princess and destined Plum Queen of Crims."  
"But I have no idea where to start looking for her!" Jane protested. "There's no hint as to where she is! I just want to go home. This adventure is too big for me."  
Absolem looked down at her, seemingly bored. "You'll never get home until she does, stupid girl."_

* * *

The low-burning flames of the campfire created long shadows and a warm glow, both of which were reflected in the silver eyes of Witzend the Kitten as she lay curled up against Jane's side. The Kitten's eyes were trained on her mistress' face, watchful as she guarded over her human. Jane was lost within the clutches of dreams, and Witzend almost wished she could pounce upon her mistress to wake her. However, the presence of the blue Butterfly perched upon Jane's shoulder detained Witzend from making any movement. The dreams were necessary, Witzend knew; Jane was going to have to meet Princess Regina at some point. But that didn't mean that Witzend ceased wishing she could save her mistress the distress she would have to endure over the next several hours.

"If I didn't know any better, I would think you had formed an attachment to the silly girl."

Witzend looked up slowly, blinking lazily at the Cat who hung suspended in air, only half-visible as he rested his head upon his crossed forelegs as he gazed down at her.

"She saved my life, and so I am pledged to protect her," Witzend replied, sitting up gracefully. "Though I don't expect you to understand such a bond, Grandsire."

For a long moment, the Cheshire Cat didn't reply. He merely looked at Witzend, his blue-green eyes speculative, his grin never dropping or diminishing.

"So you know," he finally commented.  
"Of course," Witzend sniffed disdainfully. "All of the descendants of Snowdrop and Kitty know who their sire is."  
"Hmm," Cheshire said noncommittally. "Why have you come to Underland, kitten?"  
"It is the call of a Guardian to follow the Champion into Underland," Witzend replied, the formulaic response falling from her tongue easily. "As my grandmother did before me, so I do now. As we were instructed to do by the Guardian of Underland," she added pointedly.  
The Cat's grin widened slightly. "She trained you well, your grandmother. Well, I suppose I could have worse candidates for my tutelage. You know, don't you, what you must do now that you are here?"  
"Are you that close to your ninth life?" Witzend asked indifferently.  
The Cheshire Cat inclined his head. "I have had an adventure or two," he acknowledged. "Do you accept the challenge?"  
"You knew what you were about, when you chose to mate with the Dinah Cat," Witzend replied evenly. "Was there ever a choice for me?"  
"No, I suppose there wasn't," Cheshire replied. "I'll take you under my tail after the humans finally follow their noses."  
"I'll not abandon my mistress for training," Witzend stated.  
"Ah, so you have become attached," Cheshire drawled. "You'll begin to sound like a Dog, at this rate."  
"She saved my life," Witzend repeated. "I am bound to her until I have repaid the favor. Besides, Grandsire, I am her Guardian. That is a bond that cannot be broken. Where my lady goes, I go."  
"And when the Lady finds her own Champion?" the Cat asked lazily, a superiority born of knowledge shining from his eyes. "She will, you know. He's coming."  
"Champion he may be, but I am still the Guardian," Witzend replied archly.  
Cheshire's smile widened in amusement. "You are very like Dinah. I believe I might learn to enjoy your training."  
"High praise," Witzend drawled in a credible imitation of her grandsire.  
"It won't be easy, you realize," the Cat said suddenly, enigmatic.  
"No, I don't imagine it will be," Witzend replied. "But I've made it here, so clearly Underland thinks me worthy of the challenge."  
"That remains to be seen," Cheshire replied, before disappearing in a wisp of smoke.

Witzend rolled her eyes as he disappeared, sticking her tongue out at her ancestor before turning her attention back to her mistress. From his perch on Jane's shoulder, Absolem gave Witzend an appraising look.

"Rather a hasty thing, bandying words with the Cheshire Cat," he observed.  
Had Witzend been able, she would have shrugged. "He wouldn't expect any less of me. Grandmother always told us that he wouldn't accept a successor who couldn't hold their own against him."  
"A wise decision on his part," Absolem stated. "You are very young for the job."  
"My lady is also very young," Witzend pointed out. "No one seems to think it an impediment in her case. Weren't you the one who said that Underland belongs to the young?"  
"I said Underland belonged to the young at heart," Absolem corrected her.  
"In this case, it's the same thing," Witzend said dismissively. "Besides, Underland Herself whispered in my ear. My mistress will need me many times before the Queen of Crims can sit securely on her throne."  
Absolem looked at Witzend thoughtfully. "So She has spoken to you, as well," he said slowly. "Then the Oraculum speaks true, and a time of great change is coming. The Guard must change, a new Age will begin, and all the old will be swept away."  
"Perhaps not entirely," Witzend said thoughtfully. "Perhaps, unlike this Age, there will be room for a balance between the old and the new."  
"Only Time will reveal," Absolem said, before fluttering his wings and taking off into the night.

* * *

They said that change always came soaring in on swift wings. Dafydd had no idea who _they_ were, but he had to appreciate the sentiment. Up here, suspended between heaven and earth on the back of a Crow, he felt like anything was possible, like he could change the world. As the unending red of the Outlandish desert changed to the cold blues of the Forbidding Mountains, and from there to the lush greens of Witzend, Dafydd leaned over the shoulder of his Crow, eagerly taking in his first views of Underland.

Everything about this mythical land was strange to him. The sky was inky dark, and _blue_, dotted with a million points of light that he knew from the stories had to be stars. He had never seen such a sky before; in the Outlands, the sky was red. Blood red during the day, and dark maroon at night, usually covered with clouds. There was no beauty in an Outlandish sky. But here… this sky, this moon, these stars… Dear Fates, the _stars_. Like a million fireflies, they were, illuminating the sky and dancing in an infinite, undecipherable pattern.

He had heard stories as a boy, of the beauties of Underland. But he could see now that those stories hardly did the place justice. Especially the sky. He had heard it described as dark and black, without character. But the black was in fact deep blue. And over there, lighter blue. And through the blueness and the blackness, the wind swirling through the air. And then shining, burning, bursting through the stars, throwing their light in a complex, magical pattern of its own deciphering. He had never seen anything so beautiful. How lucky Underlandians were, to see such a sky as this every night.

When he was able to wrench his attention from the night sky, the rest of the world proved itself to be just as beautiful. There were trees here; not stunted, dead black stumps as in his world, but living, breathing Trees! The ground was green, a green so deep it could scarcely be believed. He could see a river of blue water flowing merrily along, singing to itself. The water in itself was a treasure; water in his world was a precious commodity. Wars had been fought over water, but here the stuff flowed freely and without trouble.

Dafydd was in serious danger of losing all thought of his mission to rapturously revel in the beauties of Underland, until the Crow beneath him suddenly dive-bombed. Wrenching his thoughts from the stars, Dafydd held on, only just keeping from yelping in alarm. The wind whooshed in his face, causing his eyes to water and rendering him nearly blind, until suddenly the Crow landed on the ground.

"Was that really necessary?" Dafydd grumbled, sliding off the Bird's back.

The Crow didn't answer, choosing instead to simply caw softly and take off into the trees. The other Crows did similarly, depositing Dafydd's eleven comrades on the ground before rising into the air. They would wait in the trees for Dafydd and his men to perform their mission, and then convey the Hassasseen and their prey to the Red King's castle at Salazen Grum. Dafydd stared up after the Crows, less interested in their roosting spot than in the stars that hung overhead.

"It's bright here," Ioan said quietly, casting a disdainful look up at the night sky. "Too bright. How're we supposed to sneak up on them if this place is so bright?"  
"We're not the best for nothing," Dafydd replied.

With a sigh, he forced himself to abandon his contemplation of the stars in order to focus on the mission ahead. Shaking his head, he rooted around in the pack his Crow had carried, handing each of his men a crumb of upelkuchen.

"Eat up, everyone," he said, before tossing back the cake.

A moment later, and the warriors were their right-proper-sizes again. They each rooted around in their bags, retrieving the clothes they'd packed before their departure, and quickly dressed. They had no armor, and very few weapons; Crows, after all, weren't the strongest of animals. But they were each skilled in hand-to-hand combat, and would likely have very little need of their weapons. After all, there were twelve of them; they could easily overpower the little Champion and whatever retinue of ragtag misfits she'd surrounded herself with.

"Alright, remember Niall's orders," Dafydd said quietly. "We take the little Champion to Salazen Grum, and then we come back to Tearmunn. We need to make sure Stayne can't claim Her when he comes over the mountains."

They all nodded, and as one they began to move, slinking through the shadows of the trees. They didn't have far to travel before they saw the glow of a campfire. Motioning for his men to stay back, Dafydd hoisted himself up into the nearest tree, carefully picking his way across the canopy of branches to get a better look.

To his surprise, everyone in the camp was asleep. He counted half a dozen White Pawns, a Hare, and a figure he assumed to be the Mad Hatter, but no one was awake. Clearly, they hadn't expected anyone to challenge them on their journey, or they would have set a guard. Stupid of them.

Dafydd glanced over the men quickly, assessing how heavily armored they were, how many weapons they carried. Despite the heavy armoring of the Pawns, Dafydd didn't think they would prove too much a problem; according to the stories the Pawns had never been the most effective fighting force. Nothing his men couldn't handle. Having sized up the enemy, Dafydd turned his attention to the chit they were all supposedly protecting.

She lay on the ground, curled up in a blanket and cuddling a kitten. She looked young, very young and small. A wee wisp of a thing; a most unlikely looking Champion. He couldn't really see her face from his position, just the curve of her cheek. Mostly, he could see her hair; an abundance of red-gold curls exuberantly flung in every direction. The girl shifted in her sleep, rolling over onto her side and affording Dafydd a good look at her. Pale, skinny, with eyes too large for her face. She couldn't have been any older than eighteen, he thought dismissively; hardly more than a girl. And this was the one Underland had chosen as its Champion? That hardly spoke for the land's wisdom; this child looked as though one good blow would finish her off. Certainly not a Champion, and definitely not a challenge for his men.

_Sleep well, little girl,_ he thought as he silently slipped away from the campsite. _For soon you will awaken to nightmares._

* * *

He couldn't sleep, again.

That wasn't particularly surprising. Tarrant had known that Sleep would have nothing to do with him so long as he was in Iplam. Despite the fact that he'd suffered through two- or was it three? four, perhaps?- episodes of the Madness, Sleep would not come. Though, was that surprising? How could Tarrant sleep in this place where his family's lives had been stolen? Perhaps it was just as well that he could find no rest. All too often, Sleep would only visit him when she was accompanied by her dear friend Nightmare. Just as Alice had had only one Dream growing up [the Dream That Was A Memory], Tarrant had one Nightmare. One horrible, fiendish Dream of a monster who breathed purple lightning and devoured everything he had ever cared about. Tarrant feared his Nightmare so much that he had often tried to avoid Sleep's clutches.

_No Sleep, No Sleep, the Hightopp hath murdered Sleep, as once he sacrificed Time..._

Knowing the battle for Sleep to be well and truly lost, Tarrant had relieved Mally of her night watch and hoisted himself up into the branches of an obliging Tree. From his perch, he glanced at the rest of his travel companions. The Pawns had set up their own camp a bit further down the hill; close enough to jump to Jane's defense should trouble arise, but far enough away to give the group their privacy. Jane still lay sleeping before the fire, Witzend curled up by her mistress' side. Thackery lay just outside the circle of firelight, clutching a ladle in one hand, a teapot in the other- a teapot in which Mally was currently curled up, snoring softly.

Tarrant focused his attention on the young Abovegrounder. She appeared thoroughly exhausted from the day's emotional turmoil. He hoped she slept peacefully; he had heard the Music crooning to her, contorting itself into a lullaby to send her drifting off to slumber.

When he was certain everyone was asleep, Tarrant slipped from his perch, dropping almost silently to the ground. He crept towards Jane, his eyes focused- well, as focused as his eyes could ever be- on the blue-wrapped package that lay beneath her hand. He knelt beside her, but she gave no sign that she noticed him; she didn't stir or sigh or open her eyes. Nodding in satisfaction, he carefully eased the bundle from beneath her hand. He froze when she shifted, not daring to breathe as she rolled over. A moment's waiting proved that she was still asleep, and he let out a low sigh of relief before turning back to the parcel. Alone at last…

For a moment, he merely laid the package in his lap, running his work-hardened fingers over the fragile blue fabric. He would know this fabric anywhere; a secondary examination of the cloth only confirmed what he already knew. This fabric had come from His Alice's blue dress, from her third visit to Underland. The day he learned he was to be a father, he had taken the dress apart, and reconstituted it into a baby's blanket. The top had been shirred and tucked, blue gauze over blue silk, edged with the lace from the hem of her dress. Carefully, he unwrapped the fabric from the book it protected, gently shaking it out. The blanket smelled musty, as if it had been hidden away in a dusty attic for years, but he recognized every stitch and fold. This was his Regina's blanket.

He could feel Panic rising again, with Denial and Disbelief close on his heels. Swallowing hard, he fought to keep them at bay for just a little while longer, as he turned his attention to the book. _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_. His Alice had written those stories down, as a present for the infant Princess. He opened the book gingerly. Yes, those were His Alice's words; those were her sketches. Alice's stories, in the possession of an Aboveground girl.

He frowned as the book flopped open by itself, then stared at the last treasure. A small scrap of blue, the brim trimmed with lace and seed pearls, two sky-blue ribbons… One of Regina's baby bonnets. He lifted the bonnet up, blinking back tears. He had made it for her, of course, pouring everything into the work- all of his love, his hopes and dreams for her. A perfect bonnet for a perfect daughter.

And Jane had his daughter's treasures.

Somehow, Tarrant managed to place the bonnet back into the book, to wrap the book back in the blanket, and to slip the parcel back into place by Jane's side. Somehow, he managed to rise and calmly walk away, instead of frantically scrambling away like he wanted to do. Somehow, he managed to remain silent as all the fears and half-thought Truths came screaming out of the back of his mind, having escaped from the nooks and crannies where he'd hidden them.

Part of him wanted to deny it, but he didn't have the strength or the will to lie to himself. Too many puzzle pieces fit together, too much of it made sense; there was no way for it to be anything but the truth. And so, holding his breath, he closed his eyes and silently admitted the Truth to himself, freefalling into a kind of Madness he had felt only once before, a Madness he had thought he would never again have the chance to experience. It was Madness, but a beautiful one, born of delirious happiness he had only felt a precious few times in his life.

He had one glorious, perfect moment of sheer blissful Madness…

And then the Music of the Hightopps began singing in alarm, whispering warnings to him.

He was jerked out of the beautiful Madness, yanked back into the present moment with such force that it left his head aching. He looked around, frowning; what danger was he being warned of? The Pawns' cryptic warnings floated through his mind as he peered into the forest. And then he heard it, the quiet whisper of cloth- and leather-covered limbs slinking through the brush.

"Slurking urpal slackush scrum…" he muttered under his breath as he hurried back.

It was too late to conceal their location, but he hoped to at least buy them some time; enough to remove Jane from danger. Strapping his claymore to his back, he stamped out the fire, shoving supplies into a pack and waking Jane.

"Uhgn?" she whimpered, before he clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into a sitting position.  
"Be very quiet," he whispered in her ear. "Intruders are coming up the hill. They mean us no good. You need to take this pack and get away before they see you. Keep going in this general direction and you should hit the border of the woods by dawn. When you get out of the wood you'll spend an hour or so on the border between Snud and Queast before you get to Marmoreal. Once you get into Marmoreal, it's only an hour's walk to the palace. Stay out of sight as much as you can, and avoid the roads."  
"What about you?" she hissed, her words muffled beneath his hand.  
"We'll follaw ye, but dornt bide fur us," he whispered, his brogue thickening in anticipation of the coming fight. "We'll keep them thrang until yoo've hud enaw time tae get away."

Keeping his eyes peeled, he guided Jane towards the edge of the woods as the Pawns, Thackery and Mally geared up for a fight.

"Dae ye hae th' book an' Witzend?" he muttered, nodding when she ascertained that she did. He put the book in the pack before handing it to her, then scooped up the Kitten, which Jane held close. "Gang as fest as ye can withit bein' heard. Go, lassie."  
"Fairfarren," Jane whispered. "Oh, please be safe, Tarrant."

She would have argued, but something in the Hatter's face choked all her arguments. She nodded, forcing her feet to move as she ran into the dark forest, leaving her friends behind as she turned her face towards Marmoreal.


	8. Unveiling

**Author's Note**: It's a relatively short chapter, but I've been waiting for seven chapters to write this part. The final scene between Jane and Mirana is the very first idea that came to me, the one that inspired me to start this story in the first place. I've also been looking forward to working with the Black Queen; as I've mentioned before, I really liked the idea of there being a shadowy, silent, ghost-like figure in Marmoreal, a physical reminder of everything Underland lost with the breaking of the Blue Royals. Ready for some answers, dear readers? Enjoy!

**Original Character Face Claims**: Azalea is portrayed by Meryl Streep. Clover is portrayed by Isla Fisher.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Jane's claw-foot tub: http:/ www. seasonalhomedecoration. com/ images/ hommage- royale- claw- foot- tub- villeroy- boch. jpg

Jane's dress: http:/ www. yourfantasycostume. com/wp- content/ uploads/ 2009/ 02/ goldpeach 19. jpg

Jane's hair: http:/ 29. media. tumblr. com/ tumblr_ lgayywnxJI 1 qgdryjo 1_ 500. jpg

Jane's jewelry [imagine the matching earrings and bracelets]: http:/ static. howstuffworks. com/ gif/ top- 5- marie- antoinette- scandals- 4. jpg

Jane's vanity: http:/ 3. bp. blogspot. com/ _BRab 0 I 5 gWzU/ TAixa 2 p 55 lI/ AAAAAAAAAG0/ zyl 2 Y 79 sggk/ s 1600/ vanity + table. jpg

The Black Queen's outfit [but with a thicker, longer veil]: http:/ www. babylovechild. org/ wp- content/ uploads/ 2011/ 05/ Mourning- Dress. jpg

Again, the visual for Regina's Hat: http:/ ny- image 2. etsy. com/ il_ 570 x N. 159943210. jpg

Again, the visual for Jane's baby bonnet: http:/ roses- and- teacups. com/ Bonnets/ 101_ 1586 Lavender Ecru Side 2. jpg

**Disclaimer**: The Clava coat of arms is inspired in part by the royal arms of England. I made up the heraldic motto and translated it via google.

**Special Thanks**: I feel horrible for forgetting to put a note in the last chapter, so a million and one thanks to my beta Thirteen Thorns for looking over the last chapter and assuring me that it was okay! I'm so sorry I forgot to give credit last time! Also, I got a review from BombChele that suggested I put my important notes [read: spoilers] at the end of the chapter. I liked that suggestion, so that's what I'll be doing from here on out. Thanks for that suggestion, BombChele!

* * *

Jane didn't dare stop moving. Her lack of sleep was making her uncoordinated, and her fear made her clumsy, but her concern for the friends she'd left on Hightopp Hill supported her, gave her the adrenaline she needed to keep walking. For a short while, she'd still been able to hear the Music of the Hightopps, and the haunting beauty of its song had filled her with courage and purpose. The Music had gotten fainter the further away she got from the Hill, until finally she couldn't hear it at all. She'd frozen for a second then, floundering in her fear and uncertainty, until a sharp nip from Witzend's teeth set her moving again. Swallowing hard, Jane had summoned up the Music in her mind, ordering the song to fill her head. Memory of the Hightopp's Music had warmed her, steadied her frazzled nerves.

She didn't seem to be followed- not that she allowed herself to look back and check. She hoped that all of the mystery warriors had been drawn into Tarrant's diversion on the Hill, but at the same time she was terrified that that was the case. Strong, fierce warriors Tarrant and the Pawns might be, but how many of this unknown enemy would they have to stand up against? Surely not even Mallymkun and her hatpin could hold them back forever. And then… what? Would they be killed? Captured and imprisoned? How could Jane run away and leave them to an uncertain future?

She almost reversed her steps half a dozen times. It seemed the height of selfishness to turn tail and flee like a coward into the shadows, while the rest of her party stayed behind and fought. If they could be so brave, how could she countenance leaving them? Granted, she was no warrior. Papa Richard had allowed her to take fencing lessons since she was seven, but she highly doubted that the combat surely erupting on Hightopp Hill was of the same ilk. She very much doubted that the blades would be capped and blunted, or that the match would cease upon three gentle hits on the doublet. But even if the fighting involved real, heavy blades and a very real risk of injury or worse, surely her place was on the Hill, making a stand with her friends?

She was on the verge of turning back to help them when common sense returned. They were creating this distraction for her, because she was the one destined to find their Azure Princess. Jane's task was to find Regina, and that mission had to come before rescuing her friends, no matter how much she railed against it. She had to make their sacrifice mean something; she had to find Regina, to justify what they had done for her. So once again, she set her face in the direction Tarrant had pointed, and she kept moving, keeping to the shadows as much as she could.

There was only one little problem: she was lost.

She had taken off in the direction Tarrant had indicated, but each tree looked very similar to every other, and she was terribly afraid that she might be going in circles. Hadn't Tarrant warned her that the paths in Underland liked to change on themselves? Drawing a steadying breath, Jane tried to conjure a mental map, drawn from the stories Tarrant had told her about the kingdoms of Underland. Hightopp Hill was in Iplam, which bordered the Tulgey Wood. The Tulgey Wood was in the southernmost part of Crims; if she kept moving east she should hit Marmoreal's borders, and then it should be an easy matter to get to the White Queen's castle. Jane looked above her head, but she couldn't see any moon or stars or breaking dawn through the thick canopy of branches. And after all, how could she be sure that the sun would rise in the east? This was Wonderland, not the Aboveground; perhaps the heavenly spheres didn't move in the same way here?

"Oh dear," Jane sighed, biting her lip. "I wonder if Odysseus ever felt this confused…"  
"And where might you be going?"

Jane gasped, looking around for the Cheshire Cat. She blinked back tears of frustration as she found the Cat's head and tail floating on a branch just ahead. Oh thank goodness; if the Cat was in an accommodating mood, perhaps she could persuade him to help her.

"Cheshire," she sighed in relief. "I need to get to Marmoreal. Strangers came to Hightopp Hill, enemies… Tarrant and the others are holding them off so I can get to Queen Mirana…"  
"You'd best be on your way, then, before they catch you too," the Cat said, grinning as always.  
"Am I going the right way?" she asked.  
"Can't you tell?" Cheshire asked, canting his head to the right.  
Jane frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. "If I knew, would I bother asking?" she parried.  
"You sound very much like Tarrant, you know," Cheshire said.  
"Chess…" Jane said warningly, not at all in the mood for the Cat's habit of floating around the point.

But Chess' attention wasn't on Jane; rather, his eerie blue-green eyes were focused on the Kitten Jane held in her arms. Witzend sat up, balancing herself on Jane's arms. She didn't say anything to the Cheshire Cat; she merely _looked_. Jane glanced between the two felines; they were Having Words, she was sure of it, but she couldn't interpret the conversation.

"You're going too far east," the Cat finally said. "Head a bit more south, or you'll end up in Queast."  
"Thank you," Jane said gratefully, a moment before the Cat disappeared in a mist.

Time passed slowly as Jane struggled through the forest. Even after the sun rose, visibility on the forest floor was not very good, and after the Cheshire Cat Jane didn't see a single other living thing. She heard noises occasionally, but nothing that sounded like feet coming behind her, so she kept moving.

She couldn't really judge exactly how long she'd been walking, since she couldn't see the sky. But judging from the weak sunlight and her aching feet, she must have been moving for at least two hours. Jane focused on keeping her breath even in an attempt to keep her eyes from overflowing with frustrated tears. Witzend wriggled from Jane's arms and gracefully leapt to the ground, indulging in a stretch before tilting her head up at Jane.

"Are you holding up, mistress?" Witzend asked.  
"I… I think so," Jane replied, rubbing her eyes to rid them of the moisture. "I just… Oh, Witzend, I'm so worried about Tarrant. Who were those people? What did they want?"  
"They smelled like Outlanders," Witzend said, delicately wrinkling her nose. "At least, I assume that's what they were… they didn't smell like Underlandians, at any rate."  
"What could they want with us?" Jane sniffed.  
"What do you think?" Witzend replied. "They want to keep you from finding Princess Regina. Are you going to let them win, after what Tarrant's done for you?"  
"No, of course not," Jane shook her head.  
"Very well then," Witzend said determinedly. "Best keep moving. The sooner we reach Marmoreal, the sooner you can tell the White Queen what happened, and she can send Pawns to fetch Tarrant and the others."

Jane nodded, seeing the sense in what her Kitten said. Sighing a bit wearily and rolling each foot, she drew a deep breath and began walking again. Then a noise caught her attention- someone, or something, running. The noise was getting steadily closer, and in panic Jane dove behind a tree, scooping Witzend up and holding her against her chest. Gathering her courage, she peeked around the tree, seeking the source of the sound.

It proved to be a bloodhound. Her honey-colored coat was smooth and shiny, and her nose was to the ground as she focused on a scent… Jane winced. There would be no outrunning a bloodhound's nose. Biting her lip, she stepped out from the tree and met the danger head-on, praying that if she was falling into a trap that she could get back out.

"Would you be Jane, by any chance?" the Bloodhound asked.  
"Yes," Jane nodded, too used by now to talking Animals to be deterred. "Who are you, please?"  
"I am Bielle, a messenger of the White Queen," the Bloodhound replied. "The Cheshire Cat told me you were traveling through the Tulgey Wood, and sent me to bring you to Marmoreal safely."  
"Thank you," Jane said gratefully, mentally sending her thanks to the Cheshire Cat.  
Bielle nodded. "Open the pouch on my collar," she instructed.

Jane did as Bielle said, withdrawing a vial of a pale gold liquid. She frowned as she looked at it; it resembled whiskey.

"Pishalver," Bielle said. "A sip of it will cause you to shrink enough to ride on my back. Don't drink too much, mind."

Uncorking the vial, Jane took a sip, coughing at the vile taste of the drink. She gasped as she began to shrink, clutching her clothes around her as they became too large for her. When she had shrunk down, she re-tied her chemise around herself as best she could and clambered onto Bielle's back.

"What can we do with the clothes?" Jane asked. "We can't leave them for anyone to find."  
"Can we tie them around you, Bielle?" Witzend asked, tilting her head.  
"We can try," Bielle nodded.

It was difficult; even though Jane was about two feet tall, there was still a _lot_ of fabric to her dress. But finally, after some help from Witzend, she managed to wrap the dress around Bielle's midsection in a satisfactory manner. She clambered onto Bielle's back, wrapping her feet and hands in her dress as though it were saddle and bridle. Bielle delicately picked Jane's hat up in her teeth, and with Witzend keeping pace beside her, took off into the forest. Jane clung to Bielle's collar, looking around as the Bloodhound and her Kitten ran. Bielle ran quickly, confidence in her direction making up the time Jane had lost stumbling through the woods on her own.

As the Animals ran, Jane thought, and wondered. Why had the Oraculum lied? It had so clearly showed a girl sitting in the midst of the destruction of Hightopp Hill. She had been so sure that the girl had been the Azure Princess… but clearly, Regina hadn't been on the Hill. So why had the Oraculum sent her there? What game was the oracle playing? All that had come of the sojourn to the Hill was Jane learning that Regina was Tarrant's daughter before their party had been ripped apart by invaders.

Jane bit her lip, hoping for the thousandth time that Tarrant was safe. If he'd been hurt- or God forbid, killed- because of her, she would never forgive herself. She was supposed to restore his daughter to him, not get him killed before he had the chance to know that his child was alive and safe… _I'll find her, Tarrant_, she whispered to herself again. _I promise_.

But how to find her? The Princess was proving to be incredibly elusive. Now that she knew Regina wasn't at Hightopp Hill, Jane was back to square one. Where in Underland could the Azure Princess be hiding, and how in both worlds was Jane supposed to find her?

Shortly after noon, the unending shadows of the Tulgey Wood gave way to open skies and gently rolling hills and pastureland. Not too long afterwards, Jane could see the ivory towers of the White Queen's castle rising ahead. She lost her breath at the beauty of the castle, and for the first time all day a sense of peace and calm filled her. Surely the White Queen would know what to do, even though Jane had failed to find the Azure Princess thus far.

Bielle ran through the open doors of the castle, baying as she sprinted through halls, hardly deterred by the change between earth and marble. She ignored servants and members of the Court, stopping only when she entered the throne room, bowing as Jane got her first look at Mirana, the White Queen of Marmoreal and High Queen of Underland.

She was beautiful, just as Jane had imagined her to be when she read about the White Queen in her book. Pale skin, clothed entirely in white, accented with pearls and diamonds, white hair, on top of which rested her hard-won crown. Black nails, lips, and eyes. But it wasn't so much the White Queen's beauty that held Jane captivated; it was her air of gentle grace blended with confident competence. It was the poise of a true Queen, and it instilled an answering assurance in Jane. Yes, the White Queen would help her, and Jane wouldn't let her down.

Mirana stood from her throne, floating down the dais and kneeling before Bielle. "Welcome to Marmoreal," she smiled at Jane, while stroking Bielle's head. "You're a bit smaller than I thought you'd be. Abovegrounders seem to have a talent for never being their proper sizes."  
"Your Majesty," Jane said, inclining her head. "I'm afraid I have come bearing Bad News-"  
"There is Time enough to discuss that later," the Queen interrupted.  
"Forgive me, your Majesty, but there isn't," Jane argued, sliding off Bielle's back and looking up at the White Queen. "Tarrant's in trouble."  
"Trouble?" Mirana frowned.  
"He's at Hightopp Hill. Or he was, when I left him," Jane said, biting her lip. "Someone came to the Hill. Tarrant sent me away while he stayed with the Pawns, Thackery, and Mally. Please, your Majesty, I'm so worried-"  
"I will send my men to Iplam straight away," Mirana promised. "In the meantime, Jane, I believe you might appreciate a bath, a change of clothing… and certainly some upelkuchen. Lady Bielle, if you wouldn't mind transporting Jane to her chambers?"  
"Of course, Your Majesty," Bielle said around Jane's cloche, before trotting out of the throne room, Witzend trailing close behind.

As Mirana watched the Bloodhound go, Kalen entered the throne room from one of the doors behind the throne, and walked to his wife's side.

"Is everything alright, Wife?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  
"We need to send Pawns to Iplam," Mirana said. "Tarrant seems to have got himself in trouble again. But the important thing is, she's here safe and sound, if a bit small," Mirana sighed in satisfaction. "I am going to see her after she has bathed."  
"And then?" Kalen asked.  
Mirana's gaze dropped. "And then it will be time to bring her to the Black Queen, and to the Azure Princess."

* * *

Bielle left Jane in the competent hands of Clover and Azalea, the two maids who had apparently been assigned to look after Jane for as long as she was a guest in Marmoreal. Within moments, the matronly, kind-faced Azalea was feeding Jane upelkuchen while the sprightly, slightly bossy Clover was dashing around to prepare Jane a bath.

"Come on dear, into the bath with you," Azalea said, gently hustling Jane into the bathing room. "You look like you need it."  
"A bath does sound wonderful," Jane admitted, sighing in relief as she sat down to remove her boots.  
"What do you think, Azalea? Roses and lilies?" Clover asked, glancing over Jane's shoulder at the elder maid. "Bergamot and toves?"  
"Certainly not," Azalea shook her head. "No, the child is definitely a honeysuckle."  
"Oh, yes," Clover nodded enthusiastically. "And maybe some sandalwood."  
"Sorry?" Jane asked curiously as she shucked her stockings.  
"Everyone in Underland has a defining scent," Clover explained. "Scents that relax and soothe them. Azalea's a master at Bath Scents. I'm just learning," she admitted, dumping handfuls of salt crystals into the hot water.

Jane sighed in pleasure as she stepped into the claw foot tub. The water's temperature was perfect; hot enough to ease her aching muscles, but not so hot that it scalded her skin. And the honeysuckle and sandalwood smelled wonderful.

"See, look at the dear thing blossoming in the water," Azalea smiled proudly. "Honeysuckle, I tell you."

When Jane felt as though the hot water had soothed her entire body, Clover handed her a large, fluffy towel to dry off in, then led her into the bedroom, where Azalea was waiting with fresh clothes. When she saw the gown, Jane tried to hide her disappointment; dear Lord, she hated white. Fortunately, it wasn't a pure white so much as a very very very pale rose. And truly, the dress was prettier than any of the gowns her foster mother had forced her into- the wide skirts, overdress, and rose appliqués over hem, bodice and sleeves put her in mind of Versailles and Marie Antoinette. Still, as Clover and Azalea wrangled Jane into the numerous underthings, including a corset, Jane couldn't help but miss the simple dress Tarrant had made her.

When Jane was dressed, Clover sat her down before an elaborate vanity table, and the process of adorning her hair began. Her red-gold curls were swept into an elaborate, high hairdo, and pale pink roses were threaded onto the right side of the updo. Then Clover fastened a pearl necklace, with matching earrings and bracelets, onto her while Azalea swiped makeup over her face.

"There," Clover smiled at last. "You look like a true Lady of the White Court."

Jane glanced into the mirror, a bit taken aback. It was true, she did look like a member of the Court. But she hardly looked like herself. If only Lady Ascot and Mary could see her now, Jane thought wryly. This would certainly put an end to their comments that she hardly looked like the ward of a great and important Lord.

But Jane didn't dwell on her appearance for very long; after all, she had more important things to worry about. Like what in all the worlds she was going to say to the White Queen. How could she explain her failure to find Regina, when this task was her entire purpose in Underland? Her mind was still reeling with these questions when someone knocked on her door, a moment before the White Queen herself was revealed.

"Your Majesty," Jane murmured, standing from the vanity and dipping into a curtsey, wobbling a bit at the unaccustomed weight of her clothing and headdress.  
Mirana smiled. "Feel better?"  
"Much, thank you," Jane nodded.  
"Come with me," the Queen said, offering one hand to Jane while the other danced in the air. "You might want to bring your pack."

Jane was puzzled by that, but dutifully picked up her pack from the chair she'd dropped it into, then took the Queen's cool, smooth hand, following along as Mirana led her up the stairs and through the castle, which was illuminated by the warm late afternoon sun. Jane didn't ask where they were headed, and Mirana did not volunteer. Instead, they walked in companionable silence until they reached a large, elaborate set of double doors guarded by two soldiers in black armor. Above the doors, instead of the now-familiar device of the White Queen, was a strange insignia, of a sash wrapped around the blade of a sword, both in silver, over a black background.

In answer to Jane's questioning look, Mirana smiled, though the smile was tinged with sadness. "These are the chambers of my sister, the Black Queen," she explained. "The news you have is of just as much importance to her as to me. Perhaps more so."

Jane's eyebrows drew together in confusion. In all of Alice's tales of Wonderland, she had only ever spoken of Mirana having one sister- Iracebeth, the Red Queen. Never had there been mention of a Black Queen. Was this a new title of Iracebeth's? Had the former Red Queen escaped the Outlands and been given sanctuary in Marmoreal?

Upon seeing Mirana, the guards opened the doors without even having to be told. With a comforting smile, Mirana drew Jane into the shadowy realm of the Black Queen.

The walls were hung with heavy black silk that seemed to absorb the light, with sky blue wood wainscoting. The floor was white marble, with occasional diamond-shaped black tiles. White columns stood in each corner, looking almost painfully bright against the gloom of the Black Queen's chosen colors. The furniture was all either black wood or upholstered in black fabrics, accented with silver. Touches of sky blue showed up in unexpected places- the inner drapings of the Queen's bed, just visible through the door from the sitting room, or embroidered into the fabric of the chairs, or the vases of blue flowers scattered around the room. Unlike the almost unearthly brightness the White Queen preferred, the Black Queen's rooms were somber to the point of tomblike, a sepulcher to house the ghost of a queen.

The Black Queen herself was seated just inside the balcony doors, dressed in her black silks and heavily veiled, as always. Jane stared at her, fascinated; she looked so similar to Empress Sisi, or Queen Victoria. Yes, the air of melancholy that surrounded the Black Queen was just as oppressive as the depression that had claimed both of Jane's Aboveground heroines. Arranged on the table beside her was an elegant tea service, the china painted with silver and blue designs. She said nothing, nor made any movement; she just waited.

Mirana didn't seem at all bothered by her sister's behavior. She floated easily to her place at the table, indicating that Jane should take the free seat. Once they were seated, the Black Queen silently began to pour tea, and Mirana spoke.

"Allie, we have a visitor," she said, her voice seemingly almost swallowed by the gloom of her sister's chambers. "This is Jane, from London. Our new Champion. She's going to find the Azure Princess."

The Black Queen still didn't speak, but she set the teapot down with a sharp _clank_ that sounded almost startled. Silently, she turned her head towards Jane, who found it very difficult to be observed by a veiled face. She couldn't see anything of the Queen's face, and so didn't know if she met with the Queen's approval. Considering that she was almost positive she knew who this monarch was, she desperately wanted the Black Queen to approve of her, while at the same time feeling both disgusted and horrified that her heroine had been reduced to this.

"But I'm afraid the search has been… complicated," Mirana said delicately. "Jane, tell my sister what you told me."

Jane swallowed hard, sipping at her tea to buy herself some time. She didn't want to tell the Black Queen about the ambush on Hightopp Hill; she was certain the Queen wouldn't take the news well, and Jane was reluctant to admit her failure in her quest.

"The Oraculum showed me that I would find the Princess at Hightopp Hill," Jane said, feeling the Black Queen's gaze upon her like a physical touch. "But while we were there, we were ambushed. Tarrant told me to run while he, the Pawns, Mally and Thackery confronted them-"  
"_WHAT_?"

Jane jumped, and even Mirana looked startled as the Black Queen leapt out of her seat, heedless as the chair toppled over. She raised a gloved hand and ripped off her veils, revealing a mass of blond curls pinned atop her head, and large hazel eyes flashing gold with anger. Jane stared, breathless, at her face.

"Alice," Jane breathed, gripping her teacup and saucer.

So, here she was. Alice, at last… Underland's beloved Champion, and she'd been hiding in Marmoreal all this time.

Shock quickly gave way to disbelief, and then incredulous anger. Alice had been in the White Queen's castle all this time, locking herself away in shadowy quarters while her daughter went unfound and Tarrant pined alone at his Tea Table? What kind of Champion abandoned her loved ones like that? And because of Alice's selfishness, her quest had gone unfinished, until it fell to Jane, a stranger, to complete what Alice had begun. Not that Jane wasn't grateful for the chance to come to Underland, but… how could Alice have abandoned her duty to Underland in such a way? Moment by moment, Jane could feel her already tarnished opinion of Alice degrading further. Instead of admiration or disappointment, Jane felt outright dislike of her former heroine. In her own way, Alice was as cruel as the Red Queen had been before her.

When she'd gotten over the first of her shock and disappointment, Jane realized that Alice was quivering with the force of her anger. Her hands were clenched into fists, and she looked about ready to take off flying.

"You mean to say that not only have you not found my daughter, but you've also lost my husband?" she demanded, her voice hoarse and rusty with long disuse. She whipped around to look at Mirana. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
"Alice, that's hardly fair," Mirana chastised her gently.

Alice, however, was beyond calm words. With a wordless snarl, she sprinted out the doors, somehow managing to overturn the tea table in her haste. Mirana watched her go, sighing.

"Well… that didn't go as well as I'd hoped," she sighed. "Are you alright, my dear?"  
Jane nodded, her face twisting in anger. "How can she blame me when this is her fault?" she snapped. "If she hadn't been so selfish and stubborn, Regina wouldn't have been stolen in the first place!"  
"We don't know that," Mirana said. "It seems that it was Fated for us to lose Regina, for reasons that I hope will become clearer soon. But you mustn't be too hard on Alice, Jane. When she lost Regina, Alice went Mad. The same Madness Tarrant suffered on Horunvendush Day. I hope that when the Princess is restored to her birthright, Alice's Madness will ease."

Jane drew a deep breath, trying to release her anger. It was much more difficult to blame Alice- or even to be angry with her- if she was suffering from the same debilitating Madness that affected Tarrant.

"Come, my dear. There's something I want to show you," Mirana said. "Don't forget your knapsack."

Mirana stood, shaking her skirts free of invisible wrinkles and daintily wiping her dark lips on her napkin. This time she didn't hold Jane's hand, merely led her down a long hallway, stopping before another set of double doors. These doors were emblazoned with an insignia Jane had never seen. The heraldic shield contained a gold chevron, within which was emblazoned three blue clubs. Beneath the chevron was a blue and green top hat. Flanking the shield was a lion and a unicorn, rather like the royal British coat of arms. Beneath the shield, emblazoned on a golden banner, was the Latin phrase _Maneo admiratione_. Jane's Latin wasn't perfect, but she was fairly certain that the motto translated to _I remain in wonder_.

"It's beautiful," Jane breathed, fingering the crest.  
"It's the official insignia of the Clavai. The Blue Royals of Witzend," Mirana smiled. "I believe you will find the Azure Princess behind these doors."

Jane stared at Mirana in disbelief. If Mirana been hiding Regina all this time, why had Jane had to travel all this way? What was she doing in Underland, if the Princess had already been found? But Mirana merely smiled at Jane. Seeing that the White Queen wasn't going to answer any of her questions, Jane sighed and pushed open the doors… then stopped dead, staring around in wonder. She walked in further, in a daze; Mirana stayed in the doorway, respecting Jane's moment of surprise.

The rooms were painted powder blue, with soft white carpets and gauzy white curtains. A large sitting room connected directly to the bedroom via an elegant archway, and the bedroom in turn opened out onto a large balcony. She could see the elaborately carved crib, a large armoire, an open chest stuffed full of soft dolls and stuffed animals. The sitting room that she stood in held a rocker, ottoman, a loveseat, as well as a desk and chair, and a full-length looking glass standing free in one corner.

But undoubtedly the best feature of the room was the hats. Hundreds of model heads were attached to the walls, or freestanding on every flat surface, and each head held a hat. Baby bonnets, boaters, cloches, fez, turbans, sunhats, hats of every type and description. No two were alike, and each was more beautiful than the last. Jane stared at them all in awe, scarcely able to breathe.

Mirana smiled at her. "This was Princess Regina's nursery," she said. "The Blue Royals moved here after we noticed the Oraculum becoming erratic."

It took a concerted effort of will, but Jane tore her gaze away from the hats and managed to refocus on Mirana. The White Queen was looking at Jane with an air of expectation, as if waiting for Jane to finish piecing together the pieces.

"The Black Queen… Alice… She's really the Blue Queen," Jane started. "And Tarrant is her husband. The Sapphire King."  
"Yes," Mirana smiled. "Alice was declared a Queen on her second visit here as a child, but it wasn't until she came back to stay that she was able to take up those duties."  
"And Regina is their daughter," Jane said, unnecessarily.  
"Yes," Mirana nodded. "They loved her very much. The last thing in the world they wanted was for their daughter to be taken from them."  
Jane smiled. "And Tarrant made all of these hats for her," she said, turning to look at them all again.  
"Yes," Mirana smiled. "And many more besides, but he destroyed those because he didn't think them good enough for his wee little boy."  
Jane bit her lip shyly. "May I try one on?"  
"Of course, my dear. Try on anything you like," Mirana said.

Jane nodded, turning in a circle before a certain hat caught her eye. Her eyes widened in recognition; this was the very same Hat she had seen Regina wearing in her dream last night [was it really only last night? Goodness, it felt like a lifetime ago]. This was the only hat in the entire room that had a surface to itself. It sat upon its stand like a crown, and indeed it was the crown jewel of the collection. It was a top hat, remarkably similar to Tarrant's, except made for a feminine head. As Jane had come to expect, it was a beautiful shade of blue, with a pattern of teapots and flowers stitched in silver embroidery thread. A sash of plum-colored silk was tied around the base of the beautiful hat, with flowering vines and swords embroidered in shining gold thread. Secured in the sash were three glittering, jeweled hatpins, along with a card that read 10/6.

Entranced, Jane reached out and gently set it on her head, at a rakish angle thanks to her ridiculous hairdo. Despite the towering headdress, it was a perfect fit.

Mirana smiled knowingly. "That is a Hightopp hat. It was meant to remind Regina of her clan, to help her remember who she was. Not just Regina Clava, the Azure Princess of Witzend, but Regina Hightopp, heir of Iplam."

Jane grinned at her reflection in a free-standing mirror in the corner, and opened her mouth to speak again, before something caught her attention. On the eastern wall, up near the ceiling, one wooden head sat bare. Jane frowned, walking towards it. Who would dare to break into this sanctuary and steal one of the Princess' hats? She opened her mouth to call the theft to Mirana's attention…

And then it clicked.

She closed her mouth deliberately, feeling as if the air were stopped up in her lungs. Reverently, she set the Hightopp hat back on its stand, before walking to where she'd dropped her pack. Moving as if underwater, she reached into her pack, her eyes never once leaving the empty head form. The baby blanket fell to the floor unheeded; the book easily fell open to the proper place. The book then joined the blanket on the floor as Jane moved forward, dragging a chair into service. She clambered onto it, then gently set her baby bonnet onto the empty head.

A perfect fit.

Somehow, she managed to get off the chair without falling or breaking anything. She turned towards Mirana, ignoring the loud buzzing in her ears, the pounding of her heart. Swallowing in a vain attempt to wet her mouth, she pushed the fatal words past the frog in her throat.

"My name isn't Jane, is it?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

She managed to meet Mirana's gaze. There was a smile on her face, a look of love and pride and welcome and belonging of such warmth that it made Jane's heart ache.

"No, my dear," she said softly, smiling.

Jane took one look around the room, feeling her limbs turning to jelly as the shaking started. She didn't speak; there were no words to say. So, silently, she did the only thing appropriate for the situation.

She ran.

* * *

**Author's Note [or, please don't kill me]**: So, now we know why Alice hasn't been around Underland for the last eighteen years- she's Mad as a Hatter. Um, please don't kill me for that. Actually, originally Alice wasn't going to be suffering from Madness. I never really had a good excuse for what had happened to her. It wasn't until I was editing this chapter for posting that the idea of Madness hit me. And I found it weirdly and perfectly appropriate. So yes, Alice's story is now that after she lost Regina and Tarrant, she went Mad, and Mirana has been caring for her ever since. Just remember, I've made a solemn promise to fix everything I break. Eventually.


	9. Road to Self Recovery

**Where I've Been**: Wow. I'm really sorry I've kept you all waiting a month for this chapter. For once, the delay isn't due to writers' block; it's Real Life's fault. I came home mid-May for my college roommate's wedding, then had a playwright's festival to attend, and _then_ had computer issues that necessitated buying a new laptop [which has been named Sexy Thing, in honor of the TARDIS, because I'm a nerd like that]. However, I'm back up and running, thank the Fates.

**Author's Note**: This chapter did not at all turn out the way I thought it was going to. My original plan got pushed back a chapter, in favor of mental acrobatics. This happens in every story I write; there comes a point where my characters force me to let them take a breather, and straighten out their own emotional responses before they let me carry on with the plot. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I stole a bit of Regina and Mirana's conversation from _The Princess Diaries_, mostly because I found it ironic and hysterical. That probably says something about my sense of humor.

* * *

Mirana barely had time to back away from the doorframe before a blur of red curls and white silk bolted past her and down the hall.

"Oh dear," she sighed, anxiously twitching her fingers.

She stared in the direction that Jane- no, Mirana corrected herself. She was not Jane, and never had been, and never would be again. She knew the Truth now, and so to continue the Lie would do no good to anyone, especially the one whom the Truth concerned. Now that she knew the Truth, she must begin to accept it, as did the rest of them. Beginning again… She stared in the direction that Regina had run off, long after the last echoes of her footsteps had faded. Mirana knew what she truly wanted to do- she wanted to send Regina to her mother. They had much to speak of and to forgive, and they deserved the chance to forge a relationship. Since that currently wasn't possible, Mirana wanted to follow after her niece and comfort her as best she could; after all, she had loved Regina, as well, had missed her almost as much as her parents, and had spent long years waiting for this day to come.

But between the choice of a shellshocked Princess and a furious, rampaging, unfortunately Mad former Champion-slash-Queen… Well, Mirana had her work cut out for her, and priorities must be made.

Mirana sighed again, pensively. If Regina the Young Woman was anywhere near at all like Regina the Infant had been, she would find the girl out in the gardens, talking with the flowers. With any Luck at all, she would stay out in the gardens until Mirana could get to her. Which left Mirana free to deal with her wayward Champion, the former Black Queen. Mirana's hands drooped from around the area of her shoulders to her waist. All things considered, it might be easier to deal with the daughter than the mother.

Still, there was nothing for it; if Alice was raging through the castle, she must be dealt with, and quickly. Unfortunately, Mirana was the only one who had a hope of calming Alice down again, and therefore it was best to be done with it as soon as possible. Squaring her shoulders, Mirana deliberately rose her hands back into the air, and purposefully flitted through the castle, heading for the ground floor and the armory. Mirana was not overly fond of the austere chamber stuffed full of weapons, and rarely went inside. It was truly Alice's domain, not hers.

At the moment, the thought of the Mad queen being among weapons of destruction was not a comforting thought.

MIrana tentatively followed the sounds of clanking and grumbling to their source in the rear of the room. As she had expected, she found Alice yanking on her Champion's armor, muttering something about 'mayhem' and 'muchness.'

"Alice," Mirana said, as firmly as she was capable of being.

Upon hearing her name, Alice's tirade cut short. She blinked a couple of times, seemingly coming back to herself. Mirana discreetly let loose a sigh of relief, sending a prayer to the Fates that Alice wouldn't snap back into a Fit of Madness as easily as she had come out of it.

"Alice, I cannot allow you to go haring off to the rescue by yourself," she said gently.  
"I'm not asking your permission," Alice snapped. "If Tarrant's been foolish enough to get himself captured again, then I have to go after his Mad hide. That's what I do."  
"It's been many years since you have been the Champion of Underland," Mirana retorted, keeping her voice low and even. "And many years since you and Tarrant-"  
"I don't care," Alice said, her eyes glinting a dangerous shade of caramel. "I don't care. He is still My Hatter, and I am still His Alice, and I am going after him."  
"We have no idea who has taken Tarrant, or where or why," Mirana pointed out. "Until we know these things, you cannot mount a rescue. You could even be captured yourself in the attempt, and then who will be left to rescue Tarrant?"

Alice sighed, bracing her hands on the windowsill and staring out blankly over the gardens. After a long, silent moment, she bent her head, shaking it slightly. Mirana stood silently, waiting, watching Alice clench and unclench her jaw.

"I will not sit and do nothing," she finally said, her voice low. "It isn't in me."  
"Of course not," Mirana said soothingly.  
"I'm leaving Marmoreal, Mirana," Alice said, an edge to her voice.  
"I know," Mirana said placidly. "You will leave and track down your Muchness. Really, Alice, I have never met someone with such slippery Muchness. You seem to have an inordinately difficult time hanging onto it."  
"And what of this new so-called Champion?" Alice asked, ridicule in her voice.

For a moment, Mirana didn't answer, instead looking out the window. Oh, how desperately she wanted to tell her sister-queen the Truth; if anyone deserved the happiness the Truth would bring, it was Alice. But Mirana could say nothing; it was for the Azure Princess to announce herself. Until Regina was ready, Mirana had no right to say anything. So a White Lie would have to suffice, and who better to speak a White Lie than its Mistress?

"She will remain here until the Azure Princess is ready to reveal herself," she replied, barely containing a flinch as Alice gripped the edge of the counter.  
"I _will_ find Tarrant," Alice said, her voice rough with emotion. "He will be here to welcome our daughter home. That is _my_ task, Mirana, not the girl's."  
"Of course," Mirana promised. "I promise, Alice, while you get your Muchness back in order, I will do everything in my power to learn what has happened."

The two women looked at each other, each binding the other to her promise. Then, as if on a silent cue, they moved forward as one to embrace.

"While you're retrieving your Muchness, perhaps you could track down my sister the Blue Queen?" Mirana murmured. "I have missed her so."

Alice didn't reply; she merely nodded in farewell before breaking out of Mirana's arms. As she walked out, she snatched a sword, sheathed in its scabbard and hanging off a belt. It wasn't the Vorpal blade; that hallowed sword lay in state in Mirana's throne room. This was The Alice Blade, known in Underland as the Aliblay. This was the sword Alice had used during her tenure as the Blue Queen to defend her kingdom, and all of Underland, against any threat. Mirana had to admit, it was good to see Alice take up her sword once again. If only the Madness would stay at bay until this was all over…!

Mirana smiled to herself weakly, quitting the armory and walking unhurriedly. As she flitted down the hall, she heard the dull roar of the Bandersnatch shatter the evening quiet. She shook her head fondly; she might have known that Alice would take the beast with her. Just as well; the creature allowed no one but Alice as a rider, even after all this time. Who better to accompany Alice on this journey back through Time than the faithful beast who had once been her adversary?

Surrendering Alice to Underland's loving care, Mirana returned her attention to her sister's long-lost daughter. Yes, Mirana had an Oraculum to consult about the upcoming Days, and hopefully her informants in the Tulgey Wood could shed further light on what had happened to the Hatter. But first things first. Regina had been left on her own quite long enough; she was sure that the Princess would have questions needing answers. Curiosity, after all, ran in her family, and Mirana couldn't imagine that Regina would be any more patient than Alice had been.

* * *

She had run with no direction in mind other than _away_. Far, far away, as far as she could possibly get from the Truth. But no matter how fast or far she ran, she could not outrun herself. And as long as she was unable to vacate her own mind, she could not escape the Truth.

Finally, she gave up and flung herself onto the ground, and then she cried. For the longest time she merely lay on the ground, her frame wracked with sobs- tears of exhaustion, of disbelief, of belief, of joy, of sorrow. She cried until she had no tears left to shed, and then she heaved a few dry sobs. Eventually, her crying ceased, and she simply lay prostrate, exhausted.

As she lay there, she became conscious that a small creature had cuddled up against her, curling into the warmth of her stomach. Sniffling, she lowered a hand until her fingers encountered Witzend's silky coat.

"Why are you crying, mistress?" Witzend questioned, her large eyes solemn in her curious face. "Isn't it better to know the truth of who you are? This means your quest is over! And you've found your real home! I wouldn't think that to be a cause for tears, my lady."  
"I suppose," she sniffed, before a thought gave her pause. "Witzend, did you always know who I was? You called me 'my lady' from the start."  
"Yes, I did," Witzend said, licking her paw.  
"How?" she blinked in confusion.  
"Your scent," Witzend replied. "I smelled Underland on you. You humans don't use your noses very well. If you did, everyone would have realized who you are from the moment they saw you."

She laughed weakly, before the enormity of what she'd just learned hit her, and she collapsed into weak tears again. So much had happened to her in the two days- was it only two days? It felt like a lifetime- since she had stepped through the Looking Glass and landed in Wonderland. Learning her Wonderland was real, meeting the characters of Alice's stories, being sent on a quest to find a missing Princess, meeting the Hatter, seeing the devastation of Hightopp Hill, Tarrant sacrificing himself so she could escape, coming to Marmoreal, meeting Mirana and Alice, and now learning that she was the very Princess she'd been ordered to find. Just thinking about it all made her head spin. She doubted she could make sense of any of it.

But she had to at least try; she couldn't bear to have her Thoughts so untidy, like a pile of ribbons all snarled together. Of course, seeing as she had two Mad parents, perhaps tangled-up Thoughts were merely something she had to get used to.

Sniffing and wiping her eyes free of moisture, she sat up, trying to orient herself. She looked around, then sighed; why was she not surpised that she had ended up in the selfsame garden from her dream last night? No, not a Dream; a Memory. A Memory of herself and her parents, days before she'd been taken away from them. It was just as peaceful as she remembered, though it was twilight now instead of daytime like in the Memory; she could close her eyes and almost believe that she was sitting in Tarrant's lap, that Alice was leaning down to pick her up… a lovely, impossible Memory…

Well. There was something. She could count off six Impossible Things. If she could believe those, then she could believe everything that had happened.

"Six Impossible Things," she murmured, pushing her unruly curls back. "Count them, Jane."

She frowned; no, _Jane_ wasn't her name now… Never mind, she would confront that Thought later.

"One. Looking Glasses can transport you to new worlds," she said, leaning forward to stroke the blue petals of a flower. "Two. Animals can talk."

Gingerly, she stood on wobbly legs, forcing her exhausted limbs to carry her through the garden as her Thoughts gained steam. She locked her hands behind her back and fixed her eyes on the flowers, ignoring Witzend's curious gaze as she followed her mistress' progress through the grounds.

"Three. There's a place called Wonderland. Four… Four…" She frowned, pacing now. "Four. There's such a person as a Mad Hatter. Five, Alice Kingsleigh is the Blue Queen of Witzend."

She stopped pacing then, swallowing hard. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tidal wave of Thoughts rising to drown her. The Truth was consuming her alive, and even though she feared it and what it meant, she had to say it aloud.

"Six. I am the Azure Princess."

The tidal wave broke over her, the fires of the Truth immolating her. Once that first Truth slipped from her mouth, there was no stopping the rest of it. She whipped around again as the next Truths fell from her mouth, only to find that she had an audience in the form of a silent, somber queen.

"Alice Kingsleigh… the Slayer of the Jabberwocky, the White Queen's Champion, the Savior of Underland… the Alice Kingsleigh who became business partners with Lord Ascot and expanded their trading company all over the Eastern World… Alice Clava, the Blue Queen of Witzend… Alice Hightopp, the Lady of Iplam… is my mother," she said- a question phrased as a statement.  
"Yes," Mirana nodded.  
"And the Mad Hatter… the leader of the Underland Underground Resistance, the White Queen's Royal Hatter, the Blue Queen's Champion… the Hightopp laird, the Duke of Iplam… the Sapphire King… Tarrant's my father," she said, her voice cracking.  
"Yes," Mirana said again.  
"And my name is Regina," she said, cautiously trying her true name on for size. "My name is Regina Miraget Hightopp Clava, and I'm the Azure Princess of Witzend."  
"Yes," Mirana said gently. "I know you must be feeling overwhelmed…"

She laughed bitterly; that was an understatement. She turned away from the White Queen- who, she distractedly thought, must be her Aunt- and returned to pacing, hands clasped behind her back.

"I can't," she shook her head. "I can't do this, I don't know how to be… _this_. I don't know who Regina Hightopp is, I don't know how to be her. I don't know how to be a Princess. I've… I've been an orphan all my life, a foundling, a foster child. And now… now I have a family. Or… no, I don't, do I? My family has been ripped apart, by ourselves and our Madness. I have a Mad father I barely know and a Mad mother I know not at all, and I have no idea how to put us back together again, or if we even _can_ be put back together. I don't know if we can be a family, or how to be a daughter, and I definitely don't know how to be _their_ daughter. They've been waiting so long for me… no, not for me. They've been waiting for _Regina_. And I don't know if I _am_ Regina. I mean, I know I must be, but I don't know what that means. What if I'm not the right Regina? What if they want me to be _their_ Regina, instead of… whoever it is that I am?"  
"Regina!" Mirana exclaimed, clapping her cool fingers over Regina's flushed cheeks.

Regina drew a deep, shaky breath, her rant effectively cut off. She felt the fire leaving her and dimly wondered if this was how Tarrant- her father- felt when the Madness receded, if he felt as though the fire and insanity were being replaced by water, lead and exhaustion. She could feel the exhaustion spreading through her entire body like a fine fog, unfurling through every vein and muscle. Oh dear Fates, was she just as Mad as her parents?

"I don't know if I can… be this," she said helplessly. "Can't I simply tell everyone I quit?"  
Mirana smiled gently. "No one can quit being who they are, not even a princess. You can refuse to fulfill your destiny, but you will still always be a princess. You have always been Regina. It's just that now you remember it." Regina nodded, and Mirana smiled. "Now, you've had quite a long day. I think you could do with a quiet supper and an undisturbed sleep. And perhaps another bath."

Regina silently nodded, suddenly realizing just how hungry and in want of a bath she was. Smiling, Mirana took Regina's hand and led her back through the castle, drawing her into her new quarters.

"I will send for you tomorrow morning, and we shall talk more, just you and I," Mirana promised before departing.

As soon as the door closed behind Mirana, Azalea took charge.

"Oh, look at you, poor lamb," she fussed. "Let's get you out of those dirty things and into a bath. Clover! Is the dearling's bath ready?"  
"Nearly!" Clover called from the bathroom. "Honeysuckle and sandalwood again?"  
"No, I think this bath calls for lavender and shushabye," Azalea replied. "The lamb needs comfort. Set her out some honied green tea when the bath is ready."

While Clover and Azalea called orders and suggestions to each other for bath scents, tea, and finger foods, Azalea was busy stripping Regina out of her dirty, tearstained clothing. As soon as she was free, Regina gratefully sank into the steaming bathtub. She leaned her head back against the rim, closing her eyes and breathing in the aromatic oils. Lazily, she opened her eyes, then frowned to see dull-colored fog seeping out of her skin and into the water- maroons and grays and browns.

"What is this?" she asked.  
"Baths in Underland cleanse both the body and the spirit," Clover said. "Those are your troublesome emotions being purged. Stay submerged in the water until all of it is gone."

Surrendering to the power of the waters, Regina obeyed, silently thinking her name to herself. From what little she had seen of the Court, Mirana hadn't revealed Regina's true identity to anyone. She appreciated this concession of her aunt's; at the moment she could hardly associate herself with her new name. She could hardly imagine being Regina Hightopp Clava, Azure Princess of Witzend, in front of anyone else.

She frowned to herself as she thought of her name again. No, she decided. She would not answer to the name Clava. Clava was her mother's name, and quite honestly she had no desire to have any connection with Alice. So no, she would not be Regina Clava. She was Regina Hightopp, end of story. And if anyone didn't like it… well, she didn't care.

When she finally emerged from her bath, she dried off and slipped on the thin white nightrail, tying a silk robe over it and sliding slippers onto her feet. A light meal of fruits, bread, yogurt and a light soup had been laid out on a table on the balcony, in addition to her tea. She ate slowly, looking out at the view and trying not to thnk, choosing instead to simply enjoy watching twilight fade into true night. There was enough time to worry about the future tomorrow, she decided as she sipped her tea; right now she would think of nothing, nothing at all.

She quit the balcony as the moon rose, dismissing Clover and Azalea, who curtseyed before disappearing. Kicking off her slippers and untying the robe, Regina climbed into the large four-poster bed, sinful in its softness. A tug of the tasseled cord drew the sheer, white silk curtains around the bed, giving her privacy without blocking the evening breeze. She slid beneath the covers and closed her eyes, easily sinking into Sleep's embrace.

* * *

Mirana was definitely feeling the toll the day had taken on her. What with Jane's arrival in Marmoreal, Alice's Awakening and departure, and Regina's realization of her true identity… Marmoreal hadn't seen such an eventful day since the Catahoribus Day. And to think, it wasn't quite over yet…

Had she been less of a Queen, she would have allowed her shoulders to sag, her posture to slump. She didn't, of course. Her poise was as perfect as ever, her walk as airy as anyone could desire as she left her new Champion's quarters and headed, not for her own private rooms, but for her study. The day was not quite over yet; Mirana knew she would never find Sleep if she didn't at least begin her search for Answers.

Gently, Mirana shut her study door behind her, taking a moment to sigh and appreciate her solitude. Because she was Queen, she was surrounded by people all day long, but even Queens needed time alone to absorb events such as these. When she returned to her quarters, she would undoubtedly share her troubles with Kalen; they had shared everything with each other since practically the day they met, 25 years ago, shortly after Alice's departure after the Frabjous Day. Yes, soon she would tell Kalen everything, and she looked forward to the Thoughts his logical, analytical mind would produce, the comfort he would be sure to offer her. But not just yet. First she had business to conduct.

She smiled tiredly as her gaze fell upon her desk; the Oraculum and its Keeper were already waiting for her, as she'd known they would be. Not bothering to hide her weariness with her usual airy grace, MIrana approached the desk and sat down.

"Good evening, Absolem," she sighed.  
"So the Azure Princess has arrived safely," the butterfly observed.  
"Yes," Mirana nodded, pulling a tiny hookah from her desk drawer and expertly preparing it for him. "She's shellshocked, but she has accepted the Truth, which is half the battle. My business with the Oraculum doesn't concern her."  
"Doesn't it?" Absolem asked, sounding amused.

When he nodded permission, Mirana gingerly unrolled the compendium, leaning over it and watching the images draw themselves. Her eyebrows furrowed in consternation.

"Why, I don't understand," she frowned. "How could the Retiuni Day be pushed back like this? This is not the image I saw before…"

Her voice trailed off in utter amazement as she watched Today, and the next Day or two To Come, reveal themselves. Her gaze fell upon one particular figure, and she gasped, her dark eyes flying wide in alarm. The image was of a shadowy figure on a battlefield, lazily approaching a lithe, armor-suited figure who clutched a sword in one hand.

"They are all in great danger," she choked out. "This must be stopped."  
"This cannot be stopped," Absolem said gravely. "Far too much of the future depends upon the meeting on this battlefield. They will meet, and they will change our world."

Mirana gave a final glance to the Oraculum, before nodding assent. After rolling up the compendium, she hurriedly left her study. Absolem watched her departure, thoughtfully sucking upon his hookah.

"And you should be careful, Mirana," Absolem murmured, glancing down at the oracle beneath him. "Careful not to misinterpret what you see. It is not always the obvious picture that is the important one."


	10. Preparations

**Author's Note**: This chapter has been… interesting, at every stage from conception to completion. It underwent a massive amount of editing between first draft and the final product, especially Alice's POV. I have a very rocky relationship with Alice; it's really difficult for me to write from her perspective, and a lot of the time I don't like her [I think that's because I've spent too much time with Regina]. But while rewriting her POV, she managed to stir my sympathy, so I guess that's a good thing. I think I might have finally found Alice's voice [at least, the voice I need for the purposes of this trilogy], so I'm hoping that future editing will go much more smoothly.

I'm sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter, by the way. I meant to have it out days ago, but just as I was sitting down to begin editing, my characters went utterly haywire, and I found myself adding subplots, creating new scenes, and adding density to the plot of Book Three. I've threatened to kill all my characters about a dozen times, and the work became so consuming that all work on editing this chapter was postponed until I'd gotten it done. But, they've finally shut up [at least, I hope they have], so here this chapter is.

**Name Note**: Yes, I did name the Bandersnatch after Lewis Carroll. It seemed appropriate to me; I can't imagine Alice not naming the adorable thing. He looks like a Lewis, don't you think?

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's gown [but a much lighter blue, nearly white]: http:/ 4. bp. blogspot. com/ -5 K 5 OH 4 DwdUw/ TcH- XDuvCII/ AAAAAAAAAZ 8/ QukBJImxuMA/ s 1600/ inspirationgown. jpg  
Mirana's gown [though obviously in white; embroidery's the same though]: http:/ www. arachneattire. com/ projects/ pride/ duchess 2. jpg  
Mirana's hat [but with blue flowers]: http:/ www. ladydressup. com/ xcart/ images/ P/ tn_ 1710 % 20 (2). jpg  
Lily's gown [but instead of yellow stripes, they're a shiny white satin]: http:/ austenonly. files. wordpress. com/ 2010/ 10/ 61985_ 118013538255170_ 116818671707990_ 123898_ 2329798_ n. jpg

**Special Thanks**: Oh dear goodness, I threw so many temper tantrums while I was editing this chapter for posting, both because of Alice and because of my characters' foray into story improvements. My poor friend Sandra had to sit through two days' worth of me bitching about how much I hated my characters for what they were doing to me. A million thanks- and several thousand apologies- for everything she had to listen to me complain about.

Also, thanks to my beta Thirteen Thorns for looking over the last two POVs in this chapter! I appreciate your ability to make sense of what I'm writing long after it ceases to make any sense to me! And thanks for your suggestion for Tarrant's POV; he took that idea and [of course] went out of control with it, and jumped the gun on me. Ah well, I can't control Mad men.

**Disclaimer**: Please refer to the end of this chapter for my disclaimer; it's somewhat spoiler-ish in nature. Also, the Outlandish burr is courtesy of woohoo. I'm sorry if the accent is too thick for you to understand, but then again that's kind of the point.

* * *

The gentle warmth of sunlight on her face eased her from slumber. With a rousing as gentle as this, she couldn't bring herself to regret waking, even though she'd been having the loveliest dream… Sighing, she blinked sleepily in the morning light, enjoying drifting in those precious moments after waking before the cares of the day begin to press upon one's brain. She felt more peaceful than she had been in such a long time… She could spend forever like this. Sighing contentedly, she curled up among the sheets, stroking the soft fur of her Kitten and lazily wondering when Witzend had jumped up onto the bed with her. Mother Agnes surely wouldn't be happy if she found out…

Then discordant details began to jar her memory, disrupting the peace of her waking. The white sheets and down comforter, the sheer white silk curtains, the imposing size of the mattress… the room beyond the bed that surely wasn't hers… She sat up quickly with a gasp, suddenly wide awake as the memories returned. She was in Wonderland, in the castle of Marmoreal, and she was a Princess. Regina Miraget Hightopp, the Azure Princess of Witzend. She fell back against the pillows, groaning; the world had been much simpler when she was asleep.

"Must you shift so much, Mistress?" Witzend meowed. "It's not very comfortable."  
"Are you awake, dear?"

She sat up, peeking through the curtains. As soon as they saw her, Clover and Azalea bustled forward. Azalea helped Regina out of the large, stately bed as Clover went to the windows, tugging open the drapes. Sighing in resignation, Witzend uncurled herself, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth as she indulged in a good long stretch.

"Yes, I suppose we are," the Kitten mumbled, twitching her tail.  
"Good morning, dear," Azalea said cheerfully.  
"Good morning," Regina replied tentatively, tucking her hair behind her ear.  
"Her Majesty has requested that you join her for breakfast on her private terrace," Azalea explained, bustling her charge into the dressing chamber. "Let's get you ready, shall we?"  
"Yes, thank you," Regina nodded.

While the maids dashed about, opening curtains and fetching things, Regina took a moment to look about the room. She'd been so exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally that she hadn't processed her surroundings yesterday. Now, bolstered by a wonderful night's sleep, she took in her new environment with interest.

Her first impression was that this chamber was grander than anything she had ever seen; even Mary Ascot's suite at home couldn't rival this. It seemed preposterous that this suite should be for her use; she, the poor foundling of unknown parentage! But then again, in Underland she wasn't a foundling; here, she was a princess. Now there was a thought that took some getting used to…

Her second impression was that her suite was awfully and horribly _white_. The room was large and spacious, with incredibly high ceilings. And admittedly, her rooms were beautifully appointed, which made the whites seem less austere than her room back home had been. But still… it was all white. The walls were hung with white silk, the furniture was all upholstered white, and a thick white carpet lay underfoot. She so hated white… but she supposed it was unavoidable; this was the White Court, after all.

Forcing herself to accept the sea of whiteness, Regina looked around a third time. This dressing room was the smallest in the suite, but even it was spacious, with a large bay window, a lovely vanity, a large bathing tub, and not one but five armoires lining the walls. The bedroom lay beyond, outfitted with a large canopied bed on a dais, an escritoire, and two armchairs clustered around the fireplace. A wide balcony ran outside her bedroom, which also ran outside the sitting room. The sitting room held the expected assortment of chairs, a davenport, an additional writing desk, a piano and a harp.

But the thing that held Regina's attention was the large portrait hanging above the sitting room fireplace. It showed Alice and Tarrant- _her parents_, she reminded herself- in a garden. Alice sat on a stone bench, with Tarrant bracing one foot on the seat and leaning his weight on that leg. While they both looked up at the artist, it was clear that all of their attention was on their infant daughter, who contentedly lay in her mathair's arms.

The image brought a lump to Regina's throat. This was her family; the parents she had hoped so long to meet. Just as she had always imagined, they were the rulers of a magical kingdom; her stately king of a father even looked rather as she had always imagined him. And yet, she wasn't going to return home to a loving embrace and a happy family in a garden. Her parents hadn't spoken or even seen each other for eighteen years, and each was bloody Mad. She was home… but home had never seemed further away.

Thinking of the home that she was still going to be denied led Regina's thoughts to the ambush on Hightopp Hill. For the millionth time, her thoughts turned to Tar- to her da, she quickly corrected herself. What had happened? Were their assailants dead? Was her da on his way to Marmoreal? Or had he been captured, or even… No, she told herself firmly. She was _not_ going to think that Thought; to even think it tempted Fate. Her da was just fine, and he was on his way to her. She would see him soon, and she would tell him who she was, and they could work on becoming a family.

"Alright, dearie, let's get you dressed," Azalea said, breaking into Regina's thoughts.

She shook her head quickly, forcing herself to refocus on her maid and the dress she held up. Like her gown from yesterday, it wasn't a pure white; this one had the faintest blue tint to it. The dress was fairly simple; apart from incredibly light blue stripes, buttons down the bodice, some shirring around the neck and sleeves, and the frothy overskirt, the dress had no ornamentation. Yet, Regina found herself admiring the gown as Azalea finished buttoning her into it. It was simple, but light, and flattering. She did feel like a princess in it.

Once Regina was secured in the dress, Clover quickly twisted Regina's red hair up and off her face. Regina wished she could go to her nursery and choose a hat from the hundreds her da had made for her, but to do so would surely announce herself as the missing Princess, and she wasn't sure she wanted to do that yet.

"There, now," Azalea smiled. "You're ready."  
"And so is your Kitten," Clover announced.

Witzend preened, clearly pleased that Clover had brushed her and tied a fresh blue ribbon around her neck. Regina giggled, leaning down and stroking her Kitten between the ears.

"Are you coming to breakfast with me?" she asked.  
"Of course," Witzend purred. "Fresh cream!"

Clover grinned, and dashed to the door, hailing a passing Rabbit page. Drawing a deep breath, Regina walked out of her suite, blinking in confusion as the page bowed to her before remembering that she was, after all, the Champion.

"The Champion's expected in the White Queen's suite for breakfast," Clover informed the page.  
"Of course," the page nodded. "Right this way, Miss."

The castle seemed quiet, though whether that was because the Court slept in, or because they were congregating elsewhere, Regina didn't know. She figured that at some point, after it was known who she was, she would have to mingle with the Lords and Ladies, but for now she was quite content to keep to the shadows. The Rabbit paused before a large set of double doors, not too terribly far from Regina's own quarters. The guards opened the doors for her, and the page bowed again before hopping off.

Curling her fists within the filmy fabric of her skirts, Regina walked into Mirana's chambers. As she'd expected, they were opulent and gleaming white. But the effect of whites on whites was somehow tranquil and calming, not at all harsh or boring as it would have been in the Above.

But, Regina reminded herself, this was not the time to admire the interior design. She was here for breakfast with the High Queen… Really, it was less intimidating to refer to her as Aunt Mirana, Regina decided.

Spotting Mirana out on the balcony, Regina stepped forward. As she walked through the massive main chamber towards the terrace, Regina studied the queen's ensemble. Instead of all white and pearls like yesterday's gown had been, today Mirana's dress featured bold blue embroidery on the underskirt, and blue shirred ruffles on the sleeves, neckline, and edges of the overskirt. Mirana's face was shaded by a broad-rimmed sun hat, trimmed with a blue sash and a cluster of blue roses. It was a fetching outfit, though Regina couldn't help but feel that Mirana was celebrating Regina's return in a rather obvious fashion. Wouldn't everyone notice that the White Queen was sporting blue, just as everyone was waiting for the Retiuni Day?

The instant she heard Regina's footfall, Mirana rose, arms outstretched and a smile on her dark lips.

"Good morning, Regina," she said warmly.  
"Good morning… Aunt Mirana," Regina replied hesitantly.

She was rewarded by a bright, loving smile from the White Queen, who promptly guided her back to the table. As she stepped out onto the terrace, Regina discovered that Mirana had not been alone with the generous repast. Seated at the other end of the table was a young woman who looked about Regina's age. She shared Mirana's pale skin, but her eyes were dark blue, and her short curls a glossy black. She was also, predictably, garbed in white, with stripes of a shiny ivory fabric that Regina assumed to be satin. Her gown also featured ruffles at the neckline, hem, and sleeves, but like Regina, her dress featured no embroidery.

"Oh… hello," Regina said shyly.  
"Regina, this is my eldest daughter Lily," Mirana smiled. "She's been very impatient to meet you."  
"It's nice to meet you," Regina said.  
"Oh, that sounds so formal for cousins," Lily laughed. "Come sit with me, Regina. We must become very good friends, you and I. Do you mind if I call you Gigi right off? You look like a Gigi to me."

So saying, Lily jumped up, bouncing around the table and grabbing Regina's hand, dragging her back to sit beside her. Regina giggled softly as she followed in her cousin's wake; Lily seemed every bit as outgoing and opinionated as her cousin Lottie had been in the Aboveground. In no time at all, Lily had Regina seated, and was picking a little bit off each plate for Regina to try while Regina filled a teacup with cream for Witzend, who wove between Regina's ankles for a moment before settling down to enjoy her breakfast.

"Did you sleep well, my dear?" Mirana asked as she poured them all tea.  
"Very well, thank you," Regina nodded, nibbling at what Lily called a waterberry.  
"I am glad to hear it," Mirana smiled. "I have cancelled all of my meetings for today. I imagine you must have many questions you'd like answered."  
A faint smile quirked one corner of Regina's mouth. "You seem to know me so well already."  
Mirana smiled. "You are very much like your parents. I have never met two people so filled with curiosity."  
Regina stared down into her tea, faintly surprised at its purple color. "How did it happen?" she asked, her voice low as she forced out the painful question. "Why was I taken? I was… I was alone, Up there. All alone, without my family, without… without all of this. Why?" she asked, her voice choked with tears.

Lily looked up from her plate of eggs; clearly this was a topic of interest to her, as well. Regina found that somewhat surprising; she had assumed that everyone in Underland would have known the reasons behind her disappearance. Mirana sighed, and if she hadn't been a Queen her posture may have been described as a slump.

"Before you were born, there were… rumors," she began. "Whispers, of a rebellion in the west, beyond the mountains. My sister Iracebeth and the Red Knave had already been banished for over five years at that point, and there was no reason to assume that they would be able to return to Underland."  
"But?" Regina asked as Mirana fell silent.  
"But, Underland was not at peace," Mirana said. "Sometimes, when the Spirit of Underland feels particularly threatened, She will whisper in the ears of Her rulers, try to protect Herself. She whispered a tale of unrest to me. I felt that Royal Blood was soon to be spilled."  
"Tar- my… my… athair," Regina ventured, stumbling over the Outlandish word. "My da told me that he and my mother hatched a plot to spirit me out, far enough away that the Oraculum wouldn't be able to see me. But I was stolen before that could happen."  
Mirana nodded. "I am not the only servant of Underland. All the Royals serve Her, and the Keeper of the Oraculum, and the Guardian. When Underland foresaw that Tarrant's attempt would fail, She took matters into Her own hands, and ordered the Guardian to bring you Above."  
"The Guardian?" Regina asked, brow furrowed.  
Mirana inclined her head. "You know him as the Cheshire Cat."  
"Cheshire!" Regina exclaimed.

For a moment she stared, wondering if her aunt, like so many others in Underland, had gone utterly Mad. All the stories she'd read of the Cheshire Cat portrayed him as aloof, uninterested in politics and never wanting to cause bother to himself. Cheshire, an agent of Underland? It boggled the mind.

And yet, all of those descriptions somehow made sense. When seen through the lens of Guardian of Underland, the Cat's actions took on a new light. He had, after all, acted as guide to Alice, Underland's Champion, more than once… He had saved the leader of the Underland Underground Resistance from prison and beheading… He had aided Underland's missing Princess on her return home… When viewed like that, the Cat wasn't nearly as selfish and cowardly as he at first appeared. Truly, nothing was as it seemed in Underland.

"So… Cheshire brought me Above," Regina said slowly. "And my parents… both went Mad," she said, her voice cracking. She looked down at her napkin to avoid Mirana's and Lily's pity-filled gazes, twisting it between her fingers. "Da told me that my mother blamed him for what had happened."  
"What?" Lily exclaimed, shock clear in her voice.  
Mirana silenced her buoyant daughter with a look, then returned her attention to Regina. "It was a horrible argument," she sighed. "I'm sure much of it was due to exhaustion; they had spent weeks scouring every inch of every kingdom in Underland. Tarrant even journeyed into the Outlands. But you were nowhere to be found. When Alice realized that you were gone… she went Mad. And Tarrant, when he saw Alice's grief and fury, broke under his own guilt and grief, and he fell back into his Madness. It was awful. They argued, and Alice Banished Tarrant from Berserka, and he went to sit at his Tea Party. When he left, Alice… I suppose the only way you can describe it is that Alice broke. Tarrant was always Alice's Muchness, you see; without him to stand by her and believe in her, she fell into darkness. She became the Black Queen, and I brought her here."  
"Can her Madness be reversed?" Regina asked tentatively.  
"Not reversed," Mirana said. "What's done is done, and you cannot change the past. But I believe Alice's Madness to be situational. Once she knows that you are alive and home, you can move on into the future, which I am sure you will do after the Retiuni Day."

Regina frowned. That couldn't be right; the Retiuni Day happened when the Azure Princess returned to Marmoreal. She was in Marmoreal, was she not? So where was her Retiuni Day?

"I don't understand," she said. "Wasn't yesterday the Retiuni Day? I mean, I'm here, I'm home…"  
"I'm afraid not," Mirana said apologetically. "Originally, yes, this should have been the Retiuni Day. But something's… happened."  
"What do you mean, Mother?" Lily frowned.  
Mirana drew a deep breath. "Some time after you were taken Above, my dear, I learned that the Royal Blood that was shed on the Catahoribus Day was that of my sister, Iracebeth."  
Regina gasped. "The Red Queen? She's…"

She shivered, unable to complete the Thought. Mirana nodded gravely, before her gaze dropped to her tea before drawing a deep breath.

"Last night, Absolem brought me the Oraculum," she continued. "It showed me many things, all troubling."  
"Did you see my da?" Regina asked, fear and hope battling in her veins.  
"I did," Mirana nodded. "I'm sorry, my dear. It's not good news."

Regina felt herself paling as her heart began to hammer. Her head began to buzz, a dull drone that blocked out all other sound and even caused her vision to blur.

"Oh God," she whispered. "He's nae…?"

Lily frowned, turning her head to observe her cousin. Her eyes had gone a dull, slate grey; as a matter of fact, the grayness seemed to have spread over her entire body, dulling even Regina's vibrant hair. And had her voice just developed a soft burr…?

Lily glanced at her mother, but Mirana didn't seem alarmed. Was this how Tarrant had sounded when he teetered on the brink of Madness? Lily didn't remember having ever met the Mad Hatter; he and Alice had fallen into Madness when she was only two. But she had grown up hearing the stories, of how the Hatter's strange Hightopp eyes would shift colors with his moods, and how when the Madness was close, his voice would develop the ancient burr of his Outlandish ancestors. Was that now happening to Regina?

"Calm yourself, my dear. He's alive," Mirana said. "The men who ambushed you on Hightopp Hill were Outlanders, men in the employ of the Knave."  
"Th' Knave!" Regina burst out, leaping out of her seat and upsetting her Kitten's teacup of cream. "Hoo did he gie intae Underlan'? Didne ye banish heem?"  
"I did," Mirana said. "I don't know how he or his men got into Underland. But the Outlanders have killed my Pawns, and captured your father, Mallymkun and Thackery, and taken them to Salazen Grum. Stayne intends to set himself up as the Red King of Crims; we cannot allow that to happen."

Regina swallowed hard, closing her eyes and bringing her hands up to rub her temples in an attempt to get the buzzing in her head to cease. She drew in a slow breath, and felt the buzzing begin to abate. As it left her, she felt drained and shaky, and strangely exhausted, but she was herself again. She looked up at Mirana, trying to think.

"My mother is the Champion of Underland," she said shakily. "Can't she meet Stayne in battle and defeat him?"  
"A Champion will meet Stayne in battle, yes," Mirana said gravely. "But not Alice."

Regina froze, really not liking the turn the conversation was taking. Mirana looked at her niece sympathetically, and soldiered on, though she didn't like this anymore than Regina.

"When Alice became the Blue Queen, she was no longer eligible to be my Champion. Queens cannot champion other Queens. That is why Kalen is my Champion now, and Tarrant Champions your mother. That is, he did, Before." She drew a deep breath, then delivered the death blow. "Underland brought you here and named you Queens' Champion, Regina. _You_ will fight Stayne."

Regina blinked, caught off guard by that information. Then it began to sink in, and the buzzing came back, stronger in intensity this time. She tried to fight against it, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave, and within moments the wave had crashed over her, utterly consuming her. So, helplessly, she allowed it to consume her, frantically fighting to regain the surface.

Mirana sighed in resignation as Regina leapt from her seat, which promptly toppled over. With a wordless snarl, Regina swiped her hand before her, knocking a tiered food tray to the floor. Lily yelped, jumping back as the young Hightopp began to rage. Mirana stood slowly, her eyes dark with pity; she had hoped so very hard that Alice's genetic influence might have been enough to save Regina from this fate.

It had always been a vain hope, she supposed. All the Hightopps had been Mad, in their own ways; it was an integral part of their makeup, deep in their blood. But Regina was only half a Hightopp; Mirana, Alice and even Tarrant had prayed every day that Regina's Kingsleigh half would provide enough sanity to keep the Hightopp Madness at bay. According to Absolem, it had worked in the Above, where blood and breeding had suppressed Regina's Outlandish side. But now… After all, Wonderland bred Madness. Perhaps it wasn't surprising that Regina should prove to be Mad… but Mirana found it very sad that her young niece should be afflicted with the same Madness that had proved so crippling to her parents.

Squaring her shoulders, Mirana strode forward. She pitied and abhorred the Madness that had plagued the Hightopps, but years of experience with Alice had taught her how to combat it. As Regina turned, Mirana clapped her cool hands to Regina's cheeks, forcing the girl to cease moving and stare her in the eyes. While Regina's eyes were still a dangerous shade of sickly yellow-grey, at least she stopped raving, and movement turned to speech.

"Whit?" she burred, shaking. "Aam… whit? Nae. Nae, Ah cannae dae thes. Aam nae Alice, aam nae a warriur. Aam a lassie frae London. Whit abit me makes Underlan' hink Ah can play Champion an' gang it oan th' battlefield? An' against th' Knave? He nearly killed baith ay may parents! Ah canne bamie heem! Why dae Ah hae tae dae thes? Nae. Nae, Ah willnae. Nae me. Ah cannae dae thes."  
"Regina, there is no choice," Mirana said firmly. "Underland named you her Champion when you arrived here; it's the reason why you've made it this far. You must finish what you began. You must defeat the Knave."

Regina shook her head, feeling as though the buzzing were trying to shake her apart. She wanted to run again… but where could she go? She had tried running yesterday, only to find that she could not escape the Truth; did she really think she could outrun her Destiny, as well?

She sank into her chair, wrapping her arms around herself as the shaking subsided into shivering. Her head began to throb as the buzzing slowly died down, making it difficult for her vision to remain clear. She bent her head, biting back frustrated tears.

"I'm afraid," she whimpered, her voice barely more than a whisper.  
"Oh, Gigi!" Lily exclaimed.

Instantly, Lily had rushed over to Regina, nearly smothering her in a hug. Shivering, Regina laid her head on Lily's shoulder, as if she could hide from the Truth in her cousin's arms.

"I know, my dear," Mirana said softly. "Alice was afraid, too. But Underland has meant for you to do this."

Regina looked up at her aunt, sensing that there were words the White Queen wasn't saying. Was there more to this Call from Underland than Mirana was letting on? But Mirana fell silent, and Regina sighed, letting it go.

"Then I suppose there's no choice," she said dully. "What must I do?"  
"Finish your breakfast," Mirana replied. "Then I will bring you to the training grounds. Your Uncle Kalen will give you what training he can."  
"Alright," Regina said quietly. "For Da."

* * *

After a subdued breakfast, Mirana stood, leading the girls off of her terrace. As they walked, Lily slipped her arm around Regina's waist, chattering on about nothing in particular. Regina clung to her words gratefully; anything was better than thinking about what it was she had been tasked with.

Unfortunately, once they had reached the training grounds, even Lily's determined chitchat was no longer sufficient to hold Regina's attention. The grounds were extensive and scrupulously manicured, outfitted with archery targets, wooden practice dummies, and cleared areas for hand-to-hand combat. Normally, Regina presumed, the arena would be filled with clashing weapons and the labored sounds of men training for battle. Perhaps she should have been comforted by the lack of an audience, but instead the silence was unsettling. Regina felt a deep expectation in the air, as though the arena and Underland in general were waiting to judge her, to compare her to her famous mother.

Regina found that notion spectacularly unfair. She was no Alice of Legend; she was no Champion. Warrior craft and swordsmanship had hardly been part of her childhood education, and even though she had often imagined herself going on grand adventures with an armor-clad Alice, she had never once thought to actually face a battle herself!

Her attention was diverted by the appearance of a tall, stately-looking man. From his black hair and blue eyes, Regina assumed that this must be Lily's father, Mirana's husband… and thus, her uncle. She swallowed hard as she watched him experimentally heft a sword; Fates, did Underland really expect her to do this? How in all the worlds had her mother… no, she didn't want to call her by that hallowed term… How had Alice found the courage to do this?

"Regina, my sweet, this is your Uncle Kalen, King of Marmoreal and my Champion," Mirana said, laying a loving hand on her husband's arm.  
"Hello, Regina," Kalen smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Look at how you've grown! I remember holding you in my arms when you were a baby, and now look at you. All grown up, and as beautiful as your mother. And as determined, so I hear."

Regina smiled tightly, the gesture little more than her lips stretching over her teeth. She knew it was meant as a compliment, but Regina was finding that she wasn't as enthusiastic about being compared to The Alice as she once might have been. As far as Regina was concerned, her moth- _Alice_ was selfish and cruel and there was precious little to admire about a woman who Banished her own husband after placing sole blame for their daughter's disappearance on his head.

"Come, let's get you into some suitable clothes," Kalen said. "Then we'll go over the basics."  
"Come on, Gigi," Lily said, grabbing Regina's arm. "I'll stay with you."

Regina nodded, strangely soothed by her cousin's determined presence. With Lily's help, Regina was soon stripped of her Court dress, corset, stockings, and high-heeled shoes, and was dressed instead in a thin tunic and a pair of breeches that exposed her legs to the knees. A scandalous outfit, in the Above… and utterly comfortable. As Regina braided her hair off her face, she shook her head and sighed.

"I can't believe I've only been here three days," she commented. "I wonder if there'll ever be a time when I can just enjoy the fact that I'm finally home?"  
"Perhaps," Lily shrugged. "Or then again, perhaps not. Life doesn't much like to slow down, not for anything."  
"I suppose you're right," Regina admitted.

Once they were ready, Regina and Lily walked back into the arena. Kalen was waiting for them, looking over an assortment of weapons. A quick glance around found Mirana seating herself under a shaded pavilion.

"I'm afraid we haven't much time," Kalen began apologetically. "Stayne is already at Salazen Grum, according to Mirana's sources. We'll issue the formal Challenge tonight, and march to the Checkerboard in the morning."

Regina drew in a shaky breath, her head spinning. Tomorrow! She was going to meet the infamous Knave in battle _tomorrow_? Incoherent, half-formed objections flooded Regina's mind. Fates, this wasn't enough time; she needed more time! To prepare, to catch her breath, to get her bearings, to find her courage… She couldn't do this. And yet, she clearly had no choice.

"Since we have only a very little time, I'm afraid your training is going to be rudimentary," Kalen continued. "Enough so that you can counter what Stayne is most likely to do as he fights. Have you ever held a weapon before?"  
"I know archery and fencing," Regina croaked. "My foster father was a bit eccentric in that way, he thought I should learn if I wanted to. But I hardly think Stayne will be so kind as to allow capped and blunted blades."  
"I'm afraid not," Kalen agreed.

He turned to a rack of weapons, choosing an enormous, long-bladed sword that Regina regarded with dismay-filled eyes. The blade glinted in the sunlight, seemingly going on forever, and clearly deadly sharp.

"This is a broadsword," Kalen stated. "It's Stayne's preferred weapon."  
"Of course it is," Regina replied weakly.  
"It's very heavy, very powerful," Kalen continued. "Very effective weapon, if you know how to use it."  
"Which Stayne does," Regina said shakily.

Kalen looked like he was about to answer, until he got a good look at Regina's face. What he saw, she didn't know, but whatever it was seemed to be enough to cause him to set the sword down and place his hands on her shoulders, in a movement so loving and parental that it brought tears to her eyes. Well, additional tears, at any rate; tears of loneliness and worry for her da on top of tears of panic and overwhelm.

"Regina, Underland would not have set you this task if it lay beyond your strength," he said bracingly.  
"But I'm not a warrior," she replied helplessly as tears leaked from her eyes. "I'm just a girl from London."  
"You're not," Kalen told her, bending forward to lock eyes with her. "You are the daughter of the Champion of Underland and the leader of the Underland Underground Resistance. Your parents' strength and courage flows in your veins also, Regina, and I know you'll do them proud."

Regina closed her eyes and drew a shaky breath, summoning up a mental picture of her da. She forced herself to focus on the memory of his wide green eyes and wild red hair, both of which she had clearly inherited, on his gap-toothed grin and endearingly offbeat eccentricities. She had his whimsy, his looks. Yet, she knew that beneath the child-like exterior, her da was an Outlander, with a spine of steel and a protective streak not to be crossed. Had she inherited that, as well? And Alice, for all her faults, had defeated the Red Queen and the Jabberwocky, saving all of Underland, when she was only a year older than Regina was now. If Alice with all her faults could do so much, could Regina do the same?

"What do I do?" Regina asked, pleased to hear that she sounded somewhat calmer.  
Kalen smiled, clearly pleased that she had controlled herself. "There are disadvantages to Stayne's fighting style, which we're going to exploit. The broadsword is a two-handed weapon, so he won't be able to draw any other weapons. It's also very heavy, so all Stayne can do is swing and hold on. It's a slicing weapon; once you swing it, you can't change direction or momentum. That works if you're going against another broadsword, but if your opponent is lighter and faster on their feet, you've got yourself a problem."  
"So I'll be lighter and faster," Regina nodded.  
"Very much so," Kalen nodded.

He returned to the rack of weapons, choosing two short, lighter blades. He handed one to Regina hilt first with an expectant face. She rubbed her suddenly sweaty palms on her breeches, then forced herself to raise her arm and grasp the hilt. She curled her fingers tightly around the leather grip, holding up the sword and examining it, wondering if she should feel any different. Was she supposed to feel something stirring in her blood, some long-suppressed warrior instinct? If that was the case, then she was failing spectacularly. She didn't feel particularly like a warrior; mostly she felt foolish.

_For Da_, she reminded herself. She had to do this; her da's life and liberty depended upon it.

"Cutlass," Kalen stated. "You'll want to weave in and out, make Stayne swing at you and miss. He'll tire. Then deflect his blade with one sword, and thrust with the other."

Regina nodded, studying her blade, until something clicked in her mind. She looked up slowly, feeling as though a fog was lifting and she was finally able to see this situation for what it was.

"This is a duel to the death, isn't it?" she asked fearfully. "I have to _kill_ him."  
Kalen nodded, just as somber. "Yes," he said gravely, finality in his voice. "He won't stop until you're dead, or he is."

Regina looked away, her heart heavy and beating erratically. Could she do this? It was all well and good to call herself the Champion and learn to heft a sword, but could she _kill_? Did she have a choice? If she didn't stop Stayne, he would take over Crims, and all of Underland would be thrown into chaos once again. All of Alice's hard work as the Champion would be undone in a moment. She had no choice; she had to finish what Alice had begun.

"I'll come at you the way Stayne likely will," Kalen said, lifting the broadsword again. "Lily will show you how to dodge and deflect me."

Regina drew a deep breath, gripping her swords. Was she ready for this? Absolutely not. Did she have a choice? Absolutely not. Her da had been captured by this monster; he was coming to undo Alice's work. And she was the only thing standing in his way. She would not fail her parents; she wouldn't let Underland down.

"Let's go," she said grimly.

* * *

The air smelled of a Challenge.

Alice could feel it; a drumming in the land, a stirring of the breeze. It was like the ionization before a storm, foretelling rain and lightning, and it energized her in a way she hadn't been in years.

Someone had issued a formal Challenge.

A corner of her soul, long since dormant, began to awaken and stir, thrilling in anticipation. She was the Champion, and she so loved a fight. It had been so very long since she'd had a good fight, and she found herself sniffing the air, her Champion's senses straining to find the field of combat.

The Challenge vibrations were strongest from behind her, from the east. To the east and slightly to the south… a thrill went through her as she realized where the Challenge was issuing from. The Checkerboard. The sight of her great triumph so many years ago, and now it was to see another fight.

She assumed that the Challenge had been issued because of the Aboveground girl's abysmal failure. The depth of the girl's incompetence was astonishing to Alice. Weren't Uplanders meant to be the sane ones? Wasn't that why Underland chose them to rescue Her in Her hours of need? Yet not only had this jumped-up fake failed to restore Alice's daughter, but she had also caused Tarrant's ambush, likely capture, probable torture, and possible death.

After she'd answered the Challenge, Alice was going to strangle that girl with her bare hands.

And then, she might possibly want to lash out at Underland itself. Really, what had the place been thinking? Wonderland was _hers_; her dream, her secret, her legacy. If Underland needed a Champion again, She should have called to Alice. But even if Underland wanted a new Champion [a desire that she didn't understand _at all_], couldn't She at least have chosen someone competent? This new Champion was nothing more than a girl, and a weak, foolish one at that. This girl was no more worthy to wear the title of Champion than a borogrove! It felt like a betrayal, and the fact that the betrayal had come at the metaphorical hands of the only place that had ever felt like Home was deeply painful to her.

Had Underland finally decided that she wasn't good enough after all, that she didn't truly belong here? Was that why She had ensnared another Champion? Was Underland trying to push Alice aside and start over, with a new Dreamer?

If that was the case… what was the point in remaining in Underland any longer? If her adopted homeland didn't need her… she could return to her birth country. Why not? She didn't know what havoc Time had wreaked in England, but surely there was still a place for her. True, her birth world wasn't as magical as Wonderland. But then again, Alice wasn't nearly as magical herself, anymore. She hardly felt like the muchness-filled Champion who had come blazing through this world at age nineteen, positive that she was dreaming this but determined to set all to rights. Perhaps it wasn't only Underland; maybe they had both outgrown each other.

As she thought back, Alice had to admit that almost all of her time in Underland had been a failure. Yes, there had been years of blissful happiness; those beautiful seven years after she'd come Home for the final time, those perfect years that had been brutally destroyed by the loss of her child. But since the day her beautiful, perfect daughter had been stolen away from her, Underland had become dark and ugly and utterly, utterly cruel. Alice had found nothing further to love in her home; Underland had become the enemy, the monster who had taken her daughter away. She had remained here all these years primarily because of Mirana; the White Queen had brought her to Marmoreal in the hopes of curing her. But clearly there was no cure for Alice's sorrow, so why should she remain?

At the thought of her daughter, the beautiful innocent child that she had held and loved for so brief a time, Alice cracked, tears leaking beneath her eyelids as a heartbroken whimper shattered her furious silence. Her child, her darling Regina… her little queen… She would never, _ever_ forgive Underland for stealing her daughter from her. And she didn't even have the comfort of knowing that her daughter was alive, safe, cared for, loved. Who had rocked her baby to sleep? Had someone discovered that when Regina was frightened, one had to carry her outside and show her the flowers? Did anyone sing nonsense words to her in an off-key voice, simply because it made her laugh? Did some other woman tenderly bathe _her_ child, kissing each beauty mark that accented her soft baby skin?

Or… or was it possible that Underland had done the unthinkable, and stolen Time from Alice? Was it possible that Regina was no longer a baby, that she had utterly Grown Up, and that Alice had been forbidden to see any of it? Was her beloved baby now a grown woman, a stranger? Was she old enough to dream, to love, to miss her home, to hate her parents for having lost her?

If Underland had indeed stolen that precious amount of Time… Alice couldn't even contemplate what she would do to Underland in return, but it would _not_ be pretty. What she had done to Iracebeth would be nothing in comparison to what she would do to the Spirit of Underland…

So lost was Alice in her fearful, dark thoughts that she had completely lost track of Time; she had even forgotten that she was still straddling Lewis' back, her hands wrapped in his thick fur. She had been so distracted, so Mad, when she stormed out of the palace that she hadn't even stopped to wait for the grooms to put Lewis' saddle and bridle on. Truth be told, she had always preferred to ride the Bandersnatch bareback. Poor Lewis must have been running through Wonderland for hours now, but it wasn't until he ceased all movement that Alice even realized that she was still riding him. With a murmured apology, she slid from the Bandersnatch' back… and then froze, upon seeing where Lewis had brought her.

It had been years, but she could never forget this place.

Upon seeing the empty Tea Table, though, new emotions began to penetrate through the angry haze of the Madness that she had clung to for so long. Ugly emotions, more painful than she had anticipated. She wanted to disappear back into the darkness, the unfeeling haze she had wrapped herself in as the Black Queen, but she found that she didn't have the strength to run and hide from the emotions. Regret, bitter and sharp… sorrow, crushing and inescapable… and worst of all, guilt. A pressing, crushing, suffocating guilt.

She had Known he would come here, when she'd Banished him. She had Known, in some deep corner of her mind that the Madness hadn't quite penetrated, that he had been here for years. But it had all been an abstract, a theoretical concept, easily ignored. She had never understood what she had done to him… until Lewis brought her here, forced her to face what she had done.

This place had been Tarrant's worst nightmare. His prison, the isolated, forgotten corner of the world where he had endlessly Waited for her. This had been his cage. She had once freed him from it… and she had been the one to force him back inside.

What had she done?

Her mind felt as though it were ripping itself apart, vacillating this way and that. He had deserved this, hadn't he? He had been the one to lose their daughter, to let their precious little queen slip through his burned, bandaged, be-thimbled fingers… Hadn't he? He had lost their Regina, and so he deserved to be forsaken…

But he was Her Tarrant. He had never failed her, never let her fall. He had fought for her, always; hadn't he fought for their daughter? He had gone into the Outlands to find their little girl; he had been the one who formed the plan to try to protect her when the Oraculum warned that she would be lost. Tarrant had fought for Regina; Alice had been the one who failed.

And she had punished Tarrant for her failure. She had banished him from their home, from her life; she had sent him back to one of his darkest nightmares. And she had done it with no thought, no remorse.

Fates, she was just as cruel as Iracebeth had been.

_What had she done?_

She had Forgotten, that's what. She had allowed herself to Forget that he was Real, that he wasn't just some Figment of her Imagination. She had treated him as if he didn't truly exist, as if he were just some passing fancy to be discarded and forgotten about. He had given Everything for her, and she had repaid him by treating him like Nothing.

Her legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed onto the ground, shaking. Her armor clanked and shifted uncomfortably, and she was sure she was going to bruise, but she didn't feel it. She was aware of nothing, except her own Realizations. For the first time in years, she was truly thankful that she was utterly Alone. Fates, she didn't deserve to be around anyone; she was a wretched monster, capable only of destroying the ones she purported to love.

"Oh, Tarrant," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

Meaningless; the apology meant nothing, spoken as it was to an empty clearing. The ghosts that haunted this place- the shades of Tarrant, Mally, Thackery, even a younger version of herself- couldn't hear her, nor could they offer her absolution for her sins. She might be sorry, but there would be no forgiveness for her.

Strange; it was the first time in her life that Tarrant hadn't waited for her. For as long as she had known him, ever since she was six years old, Tarrant had always been Waiting. It had never mattered how long she had been gone; he had always been there when she returned. She hadn't even realized how much she had come to depend on that, until the one day he wasn't there.

Even Tarrant was no longer waiting for her. No, he had left the prison Alice had put him into, in order to serve another Champion. She hated that Idea. _She_ was the Champion, and Tarrant was meant to wait for _her_, not anyone else. She didn't like their history being repeated without her in it. It was _their_ history, something that belonged to them alone, and Underland had no right to try and make Herself a new Champion by recycling Alice and Tarrant's story.

Despite everything she had done to him, he was _her_ Hatter. How _dare_ Underland attempt to make him into someone else's protector.

She truly was going to strangle this pretender Champion now, for daring to steal Tarrant from her.

Alice raised her head, blinking back more hot tears. She closed her eyes, focusing once again on the low, urgent vibrations issuing forth from the Checkerboard. It was a seductive call to her, one which she could not ignore.

A Challenge had been issued. And despite everything Alice had done and experienced and sacrificed, she was the Once and Always Champion.

She would give this last service to Underland, before she ripped it apart.

* * *

He was beginning to wonder if he hadn't invented the past eighteen years. If everything he thought had happened to him since the Frabjous Day wasn't just hallucination, dreams he had invented to get away from some never-ending torture.

Every time he forced his swollen, bruised eyelids to open, he found himself back in a room he knew all too well. The room was small; only space enough for four and a half steps across widthwise, or three and seven-eighths steps lengthwise. The walls were thick stone, but for the rusted iron bars of the door; the stone floor was softened only by moldy straw and rodent refuse. Water was dripping in from the ceiling in one corner, and the incessant _drip drip_ should have been enough to drive him stark-raving Mad, had he been paying attention. There was very little ambient light in the dungeon; no window of course, as the place was built underground. He was secured in place by manacles on his ankles, not that he needed the restraints; where was he going to go? He had no pishalver, and he highly doubted he'd be able to break down the wall with thread. Perhaps if he'd had scissors and a needle, but those had been taken from him long ago. Besides, even if he wasn't facing all these impediments, the dungeon was well-guarded by strong, highly efficient guards, and he was trapped within the blackness of his own mind. No, he was trapped.

What he didn't know was if he had returned to this dungeon cell in Salazen Grum for a second time, or if he had never left.

He was dimly aware of having been tortured. The painful bruises and his clearly broken ribs would have confirmed that for him, if nothing else. But the physical torture had been nothing, really; that pain was easy to hide from. It didn't matter what his interrogator- a tall, imposing soldier of a young man with eyes so blue they reminded him painfully of His Alice- did to him; he could hide from his torturer in a world all his own. It was a beautiful dream world; His Alice was there, dancing the Futterwhacken with him. And his wee little boy, his precious little queen, was there; growing slowly before his eyes so he could savor every minute change between the tiny, curious baby she had been and the beautiful, determined girl he had known so briefly, only a few days ago. He was so busy soothing Regina's bruised knees with butter and jam, and creating Hats for her unruly curls, and fending off Princes who had come to court her, that he had no attention to spare for the torture.

Blows and bumps and bruises and blood… and then they had tried to break him.

The tall, muscular one had finally gone away, to be replaced by a dark, wiry one. Where the Brute had tried to break Tarrant's body, the Brain had attempted to break his mind. He had wounded with words, skillfully throwing all of Tarrant's failures into his face- losing Alice, losing Regina, failing to save his family, losing his mind and becoming a weak, pathetic shadow of his former self, moping out in the isolation of the Tulgey Wood. Tarrant had many dark twists and turns and rooms within the labyrinth of his mind, but he wasn't able to completely outrun the Brain's words.

Never had Tarrant been so grateful for his Madness, for the all-encompassing Darkness that would blot out his vision and his hearing and blind him to everything occurring around him. Once, Tarrant might have tried to fight the Blackness; now, he whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered to it. Within the Darkness, he was safe; he couldn't be touched, couldn't be reached by anything that was said or done to him. The Madness had been his enemy, once, back when he still had something to protect. He had lived his life in perpetual fear that he would slip into the Blackness and hurt His Alice, or worse still, his wee little boy. He had feared becoming mired in the Madness, unable to return to his right mind. But he had no such fear now; as a matter of fact, he was counting on the Blackness to protect him, to help him hide his secrets.

From the moment he had sensed the intruders encroaching upon the Hill, he had known what they were after. Somehow- it hardly mattered how- they had learned of the precious Champion he had been guarding so carefully. They had learned that Jane was in Underland. He could only hope that they never learned Tarrant's secret. It was bad enough that they wanted Jane dead; they didn't need to know that she wasn't a Jane at all. They knew that Tarrant knew where she was, and they wanted that information.

And Tarrant was absolutely determined that they never learn where she was. He had been steadfast in his protection of her from the moment she had arrived at his Tea Table. But as they had begun to travel to Marmoreal, and as he had begun to fit the puzzle pieces together and discovered who she truly was, his need to protect her had been absolute. Jane wasn't a Jane at all, and whoever had thought to name her thus had earned Tarrant's eternal scorn. How dare they take his perfect, beautiful Regina and give her a name as un-Muchy and dull as Jane? No, she was no Jane. She was Regina, his little queen, his precious, adored daughter, and the need to protect her from these men who wanted to kill her was paramount.

And so Tarrant surrendered himself to the Madness, clinging to the Blackness like a drowning man to a floatation device during a tempest. In his Madness, he would rage and scream and fight back, but he would spout gibberish and riddles. The secret of Regina's location would be safely hidden with him in the Darkness, locked away in a place where his tormentors could not reach.

He had no doubt that they would kill him when they discovered he couldn't be broken. In a way, he was glad; if they killed him, his precious secret died with him, and he would be safe. But at the same time, thought of his impending doom was crushing; the Idea that he was going to die before he ever had a chance to hold his wee little boy safe in his arms again was so painful it nearly shook him out of the Madness.

But he had made her a promise. He had sworn to protect her and keep her safe. And if the only way he could keep her from harm was through his death, then so be it. He had failed his daughter once; he would not do so again.

So he abandoned himself to the Darkness, and he awaited the never-ending darkness that was sure to come soon.

* * *

**Disclaimer**: Please don't kill me for what I've done to Tarrant. I did promise that I would eventually fix all plot-driven character mangling. Eventually. I know he's Mad and severely injured from a lot of torture at the hands of characters who really need to stop stealing my attention from my plot [stubborn, ridiculous Outlanders…], but… um… at least he's alive? That's good, right? Like I said, I'll fix it, I promise!


	11. Impossible Things

**Author's Note**: I meant to only do a few minor edits for this chapter. Instead, I ended up rewriting it all. I added about six pages' worth of content, I believe; my characters no longer know how to shut up. And during the rewrite, the chapter ended up veering to a completely new direction, which was unexpected but kind of cool.

I kind of loved Alice in this chapter. She and I don't usually get along, as I've mentioned before, but I really enjoyed playing with her in this chapter. She went in a really interesting direction in the rewrite, and I liked watching her go there. The same holds true for Tarrant; he went veering off in this amazing direction. I'm absolutely going to have to return to what happens in this chapter.

There's a whole lot more I want to say about this chapter, but all of it is incredibly spoiler-ish in nature. So all I can really say is… Enjoy!

**Borrowed Material**: Quite a few minor details got lifted from other sources. The idea of Sora's saddle is taken from the Warg riders in _The Two Towers_. Dafydd saying "he's mad as a box of frogs" was stolen from the SyFy _Alice_ miniseries [gotta love the Hatter]. His reference to painting flowers comes from the All Time Low song on the _Almost Alice_ soundtrack. Tarrant's reference to being "fit as a butcher's dog" also comes from the SyFy _Alice_.

One thing that is not borrowed, though, is the prophecy/poem Absolem speaks. I came up with that all by myself, and I'm incredibly proud of it. Yes, it will eventually all be explained.

**Disclaimer**: Yes, this scene is really similar to the battle in the movie. I did that on purpose. We've had various examples throughout the story of how similar Regina is to her father; I thought it was only fair to show that she's got a fair bit of her mother in her, too.

* * *

She hadn't slept.

A golden afternoon had faded into a twilight that lay over Marmoreal like a benediction. Twilight had deepened into an inky midnight sky, dotted with a million diamond stars. Night had in its turn faded into a dawn streaked with blood red, violent orange, a rosy blush with the purple-blue of evening still clinging to the edges of the sky.

And Regina hadn't slept. She had dragged an armchair out onto her balcony and spent the entire night curled up with Witzend in her lap, sipping tea and keeping watch through what could be her last night in any world.

The thought that this could be her last night was sobering, and frightening. Just what would happen to her if she died in Underland? Would she be immediately sent back Above? Would she cease to exist in any land? When Alice was a little girl, and was being chased by the Queen of Hearts after being put on trial, she had escaped being beheaded by waking up in her own world. But if Regina could wake up in London to escape Wonderland, did that mean that Wonderland wasn't real? Was she in fact dreaming? Did she _want_ this entire world to only be in her own mind? After all, if all of this was only a dream, it meant that she hadn't truly found her family… Was she willing to trade the fact that she'd found her athair in order to secure her own safety?

Witzend had tried to reassure her, tried to tell her that everything would turn out alright, but Regina couldn't believe her. How could everything be alright, when she was risking either ceasing to exist, or waking up to discover that the past few days were only a dream? Finally, Witzend had contented herself with curling up in her mistress' lap, keeping her beloved lady company while Regina stared out into the night.

Mirana had told Regina to sleep, but how could Regina obey? Assuming that she wasn't dreaming, she was supposed to ride out into battle tomorrow, the fate of all of Underland resting on her shoulders. How could she sleep when she knew the battle was so stacked against her? Stayne was the better swordsman, the stronger warrior, and he was an insane megalomaniac. How in the name of all the Days in Underland could she hope to defeat him?

But how could she fail? If Regina didn't succeed, she couldn't save her parents from their Madnesses, couldn't finish what Alice had begun in saving Underland. Somehow, Regina was expected to do the impossible and live to tell about it.

With all of that on her mind, there was no way she could hope to sleep.

Regina had never had much quarrel with Time before. In the Above, Time behaved himself, or at least he was tightly bound and forced to move in even, regular ways. Down here, Time had free reign to move as he wished. In this past night, Regina had finally understood her da's enduring grudge against Time. Time had behaved himself most unforgivably; Regina had sworn that at one point the tricksy bugger had even been moving backwards. Time had played games with the youngest Hightopp, dragging on and on until Regina swore she was going just as Mad as her famous father. She'd even threatened to kill Time once or twice, and she thought she heard something or someone laughing in response.

Finally, though, the endless night was over. Dawn came, and Regina had never been so happy to see the sun- even if the dawn was violent and bloody and looked threatening instead of comforting. If it was dawn, maybe that meant she wasn't dreaming- could one go on dreaming through the morning? Although, she'd seen sunset and sunrise here already… Regina shook her head, sighing. Just for now, she had to behave as though Underland was real, and that none of this was a dream. That was what she wanted, after all; she wanted her dream world to be reality.

The second the sun rose, Regina stood from her chair, stretching out muscles that had long since gone numb. Wincing through the pins and needles that tortured her extremities, she walked inside and moved for her armor. For a moment she merely looked at it, conflicted; the armor suit had been crafted in conscious imitation of Alice's Champion armor. Really, it was bad enough to be the woman's daughter; Regina didn't particularly want to invoke comparisons between herself and Champion Alice. Still, she needed the armor, so she reluctantly called for Clover and Azalea. Between the three of them they had Regina dressed in short order.

"Clover, I want you to go to the Azure Princess' nursery," Regina ordered. "Bring me her Hightopp Hat."

Regina turned back to the mirror, busying herself with pulling her unruly curls into a severe bun so her hair wouldn't get into her eyes. With her hair back and her armor on, she scarcely recognized herself; where was Jane Ascot? What had happened to her, and who was this stranger in the looking glass? Was this who she was supposed to be now? Was this the intended image of the Azure Princess- a warrior, a Champion like her parents before her?

"Come along, Mistress," Witzend purred, batting at Regina's armor-clad shin. "It's time."

Regina gulped; funny how that sounded like an execution sentence.

The White Castle was empty as Regina walked through the halls; not even a stray Rabbit page was to be seen. The reason for the desertion became evident when Regina walked out into the courtyard; the entire Court appeared to have turned out to see the army off. She stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, observing the spectacle. A twin shoot of terror and adrenaline rushed through her veins; though Kalen was the King and the Ace of Diamonds, this expedition was technically being led by her.

Regina's arrival hadn't gone unnoticed. Moving as if on cue, the courtiers stepped back, creating a pathway that led straight to the front of the procession. Drawing a deep breath, Regina lifted her head. Improbably, it was Lady Ascot's voice she heard in her ear as she descended the stairs.

_Straight back, head high… act as though you are in complete control of the room until the dissemination becomes verity. Behave as a princess and that is exactly how you will be treated._

Regina's acting was apparently convincing; whispers of "Underland aid you," and "Good luck, Champion" followed in her wake as she walked through the lines of courtiers and chess pieces. Finally, she approached the White Royals themselves. Kalen, decked out in armor even more intricately decorated than her own, sat astride a white Pegasus. Beside him was Mirana, seated on her beautiful white Stallion, her crown sitting proudly atop her head.

"Good morning, my dear," she smiled.

Regina smiled back nervously; she was rather debating if this morning counted as _good_ or not. After all, Alice had vanished, Tarrant was captured, and she was about to face off against a Mad man…

"Bring the Champion's mount!" Mirana ordered.

The crowd shuffled apart, and a young Pawn walked forward, leading a large, sleek white Panther. Regina gasped, taking an involuntary step towards the beautiful, magnificent creature.

"Her name is Sora," Mirana informed her, her voice pitched low so only the two of them could hear. "Panthers are quite populous in southern Witzend. Lily has raised this one from the time she was a Cub, in anticipation of your arrival."

Regina smiled faintly, touched by Lily's display of faith in her. This gesture galvanized her into action; clearly, Lily believed that Regina could behave as a Champion, and Regina had to repay that trust, at least. Striding forward, she swung herself onto the saddle, trying to get used to the difference from a horse saddle. Unlike a high, contoured horse saddle that sat in the middle of the animal's back, this saddle was small and flat, designed to fit between the Panther's shoulder blades. And it looked as though Regina would be riding astride; well, that was different…

"Um, hello," Regina said to her new mount. "I hope I'm not too uncomfortable for you. I've never ridden a Panther before. Or even astride, for that matter."  
"I can tell," Sora replied. "Grip with your knees, and focus on your balance. Let me handle the rest."

Regina nodded, more than happy with that arrangement. She glanced up at Mirana and nodded slightly; she was as ready for this as she would ever be. Regina glanced back over her shoulder as a hand was laid on her back; Clover curtseyed and presented her with her Hat.

"Thank you, Clover," Regina nodded.

Carefully, she took the Hat and placed it on her lap. Hopefully, the Hat would be safely cradled within the curve of her body as they rode. She glanced up at Mirana and nodded faintly; she was as ready as she would ever be. Mirana nodded back, then signaled to McTwisp, who bleated a note on his trumpet- the signal for the White army to march on to battle.

Regina swallowed hard as her fingers tightened around Sora's reins. "Hold on, Da," she whispered. "I'm coming."

* * *

There were, Witzend decided, a few very distinct disadvantages to being a Cat.

Opposable thumbs, for one. The inability to effectively clean behind one's ears. And being left behind while one's Mistress was taken off to meet her Destiny on a battlefield.

Witzend grumbled to herself as she paced back and forth across the marble floor of Regina's reception chamber. She didn't appreciate having been left behind. After all, Regina wasn't the only one who had a stake in the future of Underland; if Regina failed in her mission, what would Witzend do? She was Regina's guardian; Underland would be most seriously displeased if Witzend failed in her mission to protect the young Princess.

And besides that, what would Witzend herself do if her beloved little Mistress were to die? The Cheshire Cat had warned her against forming attachments to the humans, particularly those whom Underland had marked for greatness. It was dangerous to feel protective of them, she knew; if one loved one's chess pieces, one was more reluctant to move them the way they needed to be in order to win the game. Yet, how could she do anything differently? Regina had saved Witzend from being drowned as a newborn Kitten; she had raised Witzend herself. Witzend had slept every night curled against Regina's side; she had accompanied Regina over hill and through dale and listened to hundreds of stories. How could she not love her little Mistress?

Moreover, as a Guardian, she was concerned. What if something went wrong, and Fate or Destiny was twisted? Suppose Stayne wasn't the one to step forward to fight; suppose it was the Carpenter? What if the Carpenter ended up killing Regina? The whole of Underland's future would be unraveled in an instant. What if Alice attempted to interfere? What if Tarrant were killed by a spiteful Stayne? There was so much that could go wrong… so much they stood to lose…

"If you keep on worrying like that, you'll end up no better than a Dog."

Witzend glanced up, not really surprised to find the Cheshire Cat hanging in midair, his perennial grin on his face as he lazily observed her agitated pacing.

"How are you not worried?" she retorted. "They could ruin it all."  
"Humans are rather prone to do so," Cheshire shrugged. "They always muddle through and arrive at the proper location, in any case."  
Witzend shook her head. "What if he kills her?"  
"Still worried about her, I see," Cheshire drawled. "You should trust Underland to protect the ones she's Chosen… and that includes the Carpenter, you know."  
Witzend shook her head. "I don't trust him," she stated.  
"That's probably wise," Cheshire stated, surprising Witzend. "Those who hold the balance of the future in their hands should always be regarded warily."  
Witzend glanced up at her grandsire, an idea blossoming in her head. "Shouldn't we be there? To keep an eye on things?"  
"We should," Cheshire acknowledged. "But if you don't mind, I would prefer to take a Guardian of Underland who's been tasked with the protection of the next Queen, not a silly Kitten worried about a little girl."

With a bit of an internal struggle, Witzend managed to sit up straight and not roll her eyes. Let her grandsire say what he would; as long as he taught her how to get to the battlefield.

"You know, of course, the theories of transmogrified transport," Cheshire began.  
"My mother explained them, yes," Witzend replied. "She warned that I might find it difficult, since I'm only one-fourth Wonderlandian."  
"It's enough," Cheshire said dismissively. "You already know how. I imagine it worked to different effect in the Aboveground- it only let you slip away unnoticed- but it's the same principle down here. You just move farther and faster, that's all."

Witzend blinked; could it really be so simple? Might as well find out… Stilling herself, she thought very hard about where she wanted to be. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the air beside her begin to shimmer. The slightest shift to the side, towards the rippling veil…

And Witzend found herself now sitting among the ruins on the Checkerboard, looking down on the battlefield as the two armies approached. She leapt into the air, a pleased grin stretching her face; she'd done it!

Moments later, the Cheshire Cat appeared beside her with a wisp of purple smoke. "That was very quick," he said thoughtfully, eyeing her. "I believe after this business is settled we'll have to begin your training in earnest, before you get it into your head to try to save Underland all on your own, without the pawns."  
"I suppose we will," Witzend, grinned, well pleased.

Cheshire said nothing; he merely observed his descendant. She had already developed the Cheshire grin, and she was clearly already thinking ceaselessly of the infinite game pieces she would have to move and shift to protect the future… She would make a fitting Guardian, he decided.

"Mind you, we're only here to watch," he cautioned her. "We never get involved in politics."  
Witzend scoffed. "Of course not. We're kingdom-builders, not state-runners."  
"Very good," the Cat nodded in approval. "So don't get it into your head to claw the Carpenter's eyes out. He needs them to see his Destiny too, you know."  
"Should he see it, if he doesn't understand it?" Witzend asked suddenly, her voice thoughtful and curious.  
Cheshire tilted his head, considering. "They never understand, at the time," he finally said. "But if he doesn't see, how can he ever bring his Destiny to pass?"

Witzend hummed thoughtfully, turning her gaze back to the battlefield. She supposed it was worthless to contemplate this right now; before Destiny could come, the battle must be fought.

* * *

Time was up to his dishonest tricks again; it took no time at all for the White army to reach the Chessboard. Regina looked around, a chill rushing up her spine. Here was the historic field where Alice had defeated the Jabberwocky; this was the place when her parents had become legend. The bones of the creature could still be seen, rotting away beneath the ruins of a castle built on a rocky promontory. Regina viewed the corpse with mixed comfort and fear. After all, if Alice had been able to slay a Jabberwock, surely Regina could handle one man? But at the same time, what if she wasn't like her mother? What if she wasn't strong enough to finish what Alice had begun? Had Alice saved Underland only for her daughter to destroy it?

A moment later, all of Regina's attention was arrested by the arrival of the Knave and his forces. If the arrival of the White army was a beautiful pageant of honor and order, the coming of the Red was a barely organized mob of rabble and cutthroats, with a heartless dictator at their front. Regina couldn't claim to be inspired, except perhaps to fury with a side of terror, but she had to admit that it was an impressive force.

Almost immediately, Regina's gaze zeroed in on the prisoners who stumbled along beside one of the warriors' horses. Mally sat defiant on the pommel of the saddle, seemingly uninjured but very much annoyed by the miniature manacle that encircled her neck. Thackery too seemed unhurt, though his appearance was always so shabby that it was hard to tell. Tarrant, however, looked utterly wretched; there didn't appear to be an inch of him that wasn't bloodied or bruised. She could just catch a glimpse of her father's eyes, unfocused and topaz. Whether he had been driven to the Madness or if he had embraced it himself, she didn't know, but it was clear that Tarrant wasn't truly present on the battlefield. Regina glared at the army, feeling the buzzing begin behind her eyes; whoever had done this to her da would answer to her.

She stared at Ilosovic Stayne, the Knave who dared to call himself King; the man she would have to kill, or be killed by. One look at his cold, arrogant face filled her with fear, and with loathing and anger. She was well-versed in the atrocities Stayne had committed, both on his own and in the name of the Queen of Hearts. This man could never be allowed to sit upon a throne in Underland, and she was the one who had to stop him.

She fought to remain still as the Knave dismounted his black stallion and strode forwards. Mirana, her face set in determination, gracefully slid off her mount and glided forwards to meet him.

"Hello Ilosovic," Mirana said, her greeting devoid of any welcome.  
"Mirana," Stayne smirked. "Come to surrender?"  
"We don't have to fight," she stated, refusing to give him an inch, either physically or metaphorically. "I will give you one chance. Renounce your rebel throne and lay down your arms at once, and I will allow you to return to the Outlands in peace."  
"Never," Stayne said. "The throne of Crims is mine by right of marriage, and I will take what is mine. I will kill whoever stands in my way."  
"Very well then," Mirana said. "Since you refuse to stand down, we will do battle this day."  
"Let us battle, then!" Stayne exclaimed. "Let us be done with this business. I stand ready. Where is your Champion, Mirana?"  
"Here," came the announcement, in a loud, clear, triumphant voice.

Heads whipped around, and there were gasps and startled cries of astonishment as everyone recognized the figure that appeared as if from nowhere, wreathed in sunlight. The woman who stood there garbed in her famous armor and clutching a sword was not the silent, shadowy ghost of a Black Queen; this was a warrior of fire and light. This was Absolutely Alice of Legend, Champion of Underland. She was magnificent, and at the sight of her mother, Regina lost her breath. So this was the woman who had given her life, the woman she had been searching for as long as she could remember. Despite her anger at and dislike of her mother, she had to admit that Alice was stunning, overwhelming, brilliant.

Alice walked forward, utter confidence and self-possession in her every movement. Her head was held as high as any monarch's, her face set in defiance and challenge.

"Hello, Stayne," she said, and even her voice was different- not the hoarse, quiet fury of the Black Queen, but a confident voice full of challenge for the world.  
A sick smile contorted Stayne's face. "Alice," he nearly purred. "I had heard you'd gone Mad after you lost your daughter."  
Alice smiled darkly. "And you more than anyone, Stayne, know how dangerous it is to be on the wrong side of a Mad Queen's temper."  
"Do you stand as Champion for Mirana once more?" Stayne asked, a note of formality in his voice.  
"I do," Alice affirmed.

Just as Stayne reached for his sword, the ground underfoot began to rumble and shake. It was a gentle tremor at first, but it quickly grew and strengthened until the land rippled in waves, as if threatening to tear itself apart. The Horses and other Animals shied and whinnied in alarm; the Pawns and mercenary army were no calmer.

Regina stumbled, clinging to Sora's saddle to keep herself upright. Astonished, she watched as Alice lost her footing, and fell backwards, hitting her head on a rock that thrust out of the ground from nowhere. Once she hit the ground, unconscious, the earthquake ceased, and all was quiet. Regina stared at Alice's body in shock; what had just happened?

Stayne looked up at Mirana, a gleeful smile on his face. "It appears that Underland has rejected your Champion, Mirana."  
Regina drew a deep breath. "Alice was never meant to be Mirana's Champion for this battle."

Stayne slowly turned his head, observing her coolly. Swallowing hard, Regina pushed away from her Panther, forcing herself to walk forward to meet his gaze. The battlefield went very quiet, and Regina could feel the eyes of every warrior zeroing in on her. She quaked under the attention; she had spent all her life being a nobody, shunted back into the shadows behind her cousin Mary. No more; she was the center of attention now, the star of the hour, and she might as well act like it. She prayed that none of her fear showed on her face as she walked forward to meet the challenge.

"I am the Champion," she announced.

Stayne stared at her for a second, before laughing. The laugh began to spread to his soldiers, until the entire army was laughing at her. Regina glanced at them all, fighting not to shrivel beneath their jeering. Like it or not, she _was_ the Champion, and she would have to act as such. So she pulled out one of the cutlasses strapped around her waist, one corner of her mouth quirking in a tiny grin; well, that shut them up.

Quickly, she refocused on Stayne. "I demand that you let the Hatter go. The Dormouse and the Hare, as well."  
"Take them," Stayne shrugged, surprising her. "He's of no further use to me. Though I doubt he'll be any more useful to you; we broke his mind, and he still wouldn't give us what I wanted," he grumbled.

Regina gritted her teeth, swallowing her anger with some difficulty. She couldn't kill Stayne, not yet; first she had to retrieve her father. She motioned to two Pawns, silently instructing them to pick up Alice's inert form and to carry her away, as she sheathed her sword and walked forward slowly.

She kept her eyes on her athair; he hadn't yet looked up from the ground. He'd given no reaction to Alice or the earthquake; he didn't seem to be paying attention to anything whatsoever. Her heart began to crack and bleed at the sight of him; had he retreated so far within the Madness that he was lost to her? She'd waited so long to find her athair… was this as close as she was going to get?

Apparently, it was; Regina's progress was halted by a hand on her arm. She glanced up, following the hand up an incredibly muscular arm, towards a face. One of Stayne's mercenaries, to be sure, but he was absurdly handsome; strong, strangely noble features and amazingly blue eyes, piercing in their intensity. He seemed more knight errant than cold-blooded mercenary; a creature straight out of Regina's fairy tales. In another tale, he might have been a Prince Charming. His gaze trapped her, holding her prisoner even more surely than his restraining hand on her shoulder.

"You should leave him," the young man stated, and Regina blinked in surprise to hear that his voice was marked with the same Marmoreal accent as Mirana and Lily. "He's mad as a box of frogs."  
"That's a family trait, I'm afraid," Regina forced her surprise back far enough to reply.

For a moment, he didn't say anything; he merely looked at her, and Regina got the very strong impression that she was being judged. She lifted her chin, setting her jaw and forcing herself to meet his gaze, a move that he seemed to approve of. She had no idea what he was finding in her, but she was strangely compelled by him. His face was cold and hard, the mask of a consummate soldier, but he also looked noble and proud, wreathed with a kind of honor. Who was this man, she wondered. How had he come to join Stayne's fight? How could a man who held himself with such discipline join a man like Stayne?

Whatever he found in her face, it seemed to make up his mind about her, and he released her.

"I'll just paint some flowers for your funeral, shall I?" he asked, a sardonic smirk crossing his face.

She figured he was trying to irritate her. Instead, she was only amused; his comment reminded her of one of her mother's adventures, painting the roses red for the Queen of Hearts. She turned a sunny grin on the soldier.

"I'm partial to blue lilies," she informed him.

So saying, she walked away from him, approaching Tarrant. As she drew closer to him, all the lighthearted levity she had felt while bantering with the young soldier leaching away. She stopped only when she could reach out and place her hands on Tarrant's shoulders. Her heart clenched as he shifted away from her, shoulders tensing instinctually. Oh, this wasn't good…

"Athair?" she whispered, hoping to reach him through his Madness. "Da? Da, it's Regina. It's me, I'm home."

She hardly dared to breathe as Tarrant slowly lifted his head. For a moment he stared at her blankly, his eyes clouded over and completely colorless. Regina drew a shaky breath; she couldn't lose him now. She'd promised to come for him; time to bring him to safety.

"Da, it's Regina," she whispered, taking another half-step forward. "We have to go. It's time to go home."  
"Regina?" Tarrant breathed.

For a moment, his eyes cleared, and Regina dared to hope that he might be alright after all. But almost immediately, his face clouded over again, and he glared at her.

"Yoo're nae real," he growled. "Yoo're jist anither illusion. Alice is dreamin' again. Dreamin' instead ay comin' fur tea… Wee little boy's late fur tea again, an' we're aw at sixes an' sevens…"

Regina blinked back tears. She couldn't worry about this right now; clearly, she wouldn't be restoring her father's sanity any time soon. She had other fish to fry first; she did have that battle with Stayne to get through, after all. Drawing a deep breath, she turned, seeking out the tall soldier again.

"Unchain them," she commanded.

He stepped forward silently and did as she said, giving her a dubious look as the chains were removed. From the wary stances and wide berth the soldiers were giving Tarrant, Regina guessed that her da had been a difficult prisoner, and she smirked. They should've known better than to antagonize him… Shaking her head quickly, Regina stepped forward, drawing Tarrant's arm around her shoulders to support the swaying Hatter with her own frame.

"Come on, Da," she whispered. "Slowly, now. Come on, Thackery, Mally."  
"Right behind you," Mally said, hopping onto Regina's shoulder, then running down her arm to perch on the Hare's head.

She walked as quickly as Tarrant was able, not trusting Stayne not to attack her while she had her hands full. However, they were left unmolested as they limped across the field, back to Mirana's camp. As soon as they reached the White side of the board, two Pawns hurried forward to relieve Regina of her burden and to usher Tarrant to the healer's tent. Predictably, Mally remained on the battlefield; surprisingly, Thackery stayed as well, tugging on his ears and muttering something about a ladle. Hands freed, Regina returned to Mirana's side, trying to fit the image of a Champion.

"Now that you have your precious Hatter back, suppose we return to the business at hand?" Stayne asked.  
Regina nodded. "I believe it was your late wife who said, 'sentence first, verdict afterwards'?"

She couldn't restrain a bit of a smirk as Stayne winced at the memory of the Red Queen. So he still feared the Queen of Hearts? Excellent. She was more than happy to exploit that weakness.

"Off with your head," she said grimly.  
"And my verdict?" Stayne asked arrogantly, clearly straining to regain his bravado.  
"You have made yourself an enemy of the Five Kingdoms of Underland," Regina replied. "You are charged with murder and attempted murder, conspiracy, kidnapping, torture, and attempted invasion. You are found guilty on all counts."  
"And on whose authority do you presume to challenge me, little Champion?" Stayne sneered.

Regina drew a deep breath; it was Time.

"On that of the Azure Princess," she announced.

That, at least, got Stayne to stop sneering. Instead, he now looked at her in amazement and disbelief, as in fact nearly everyone on the battlefield was doing. Regina supposed she couldn't blame them for their incredulity; she was, after all, presuming to speak on behalf of a princess who hadn't been heard of since her disappearance as an infant. It was probably time to change that…

Regina turned back to her Panther, retrieving her Hat from Sora's saddle. With a theatrical flourish worthy of the Hatter, she perched it atop her head. Funny, she could swear that for a moment she felt a warmth envelope her, as though she were being hugged.

"I am Regina Miraget Hightopp, daughter of Alice Kingsleigh, Champion of Underland, Slayer of the Jabberwocky, Keeper of the Vorpal Sword, and of Tarrant Hightopp, Royal Hatter of Underland, Laird of the Hightopp clan, and Champion of the Blue Queen," she stated, pitching her voice so it carried across the entire battlefield. "I am the Azure Princess of Witzend, daughter of the Blue Queen and the Sapphire King. I am the Champion of Underland, and I challenge you to combat for the fate of the land."

For a moment after Regina's speech, there was utter silence. The air became thick, choked with tension and anticipation; everyone watched silently, waiting for Stayne's next move. Slowly, Stayne gripped his sword and withdrew it from its scabbard; the metallic hiss cracked through the silence like the snap of a whip.

"Come then, little Champion, and meet your Destiny," he said coldly.

She watched as Stayne stepped forward, fighting to keep herself still and her chin confidently up. Unfortunately, she knew that Stayne had once underestimated her mother, to his detriment; he was unlikely to extend Regina the same courtesy. She would have to fight on anyways. This man was the reason her entire clan had been wiped out, she reminded herself; this man had been the cause of all her da's sorrows, had tried to seduce and then kill her mother. This same man now tried to threaten her homeland, to kill her entire family. The only one standing between him and conquest was her. Today, then, she would defend her home; today she would avenge her parents and her murdered clan. Today, she would make her da proud.

Kalen had told her to make Stayne swing and miss, to force him to tire himself out. She began to do just that, feinting in and ducking away in the nick of time, goading Stayne and making him swing out of anger. She figured she didn't have much time before Stayne tired of the cat-and-mouse game; she would have to end this quickly.

"Six Impossible Things, Regina," she muttered to herself. "One, Wonderland is real."

She dove out of the way as Stayne swung at her, curling into a summersault before rising again.

"Two. Cards and chess pieces can be soldiers."

She blocked a powerful swing of Stayne's sword, feeling the blow reverberate through her entire arm as she batted his sword away and backed off. Fates, every time she blocked his sword the breath was forced clean out of her!

"Three. My father is the Mad Hatter. Four. And my mother is the Champion of Underland."

Stayne managed to hook a foot behind her leg, knocking her down. She rolled quickly, just before his sword came down, the blade hitting where her neck would have been. He stumbled all of a sudden, grabbing the back of his head as a rock fell to the ground; Regina's eyes flitted over to the spectators, just in time to see Tarrant's arm lowering. Now how had he gotten out of the healers' tent…?

"The Hatter is interfering! To battle!" Stayne screamed.

Cursing beneath his breath, Kalen wrapped an arm around Mirana's waist, roughly pushing his wife back as all hell broke loose.

"Get to the tents," he tersely commanded her, before leading his soldiers in a charge across the Chessboard.

Mirana scuttled backwards in a rather undignified manner, her dark eyes anxiously following her husband's tall figure as he ran out to battle. When she lost sight of him, she dashed for her Gelding, swinging herself up onto the saddle, where she could observe the battle clearly. She felt the slightest pressure on her shoulder, and glanced down to see Absolem perched on her sleeve.

"Absolem?" she asked curiously. "What are you doing here?"  
The Butterfly glanced up at Mirana, blinking before speaking, his voice oddly distant, as if he were in a trance. "_This is a day to rejoice and to fear; the Carpenter will meet the Butterfly here. One with a level, one with a sway, they'll meet and change all the world on this day. They destroy, they rebuild, they revive and they kill. Underland changes by the force of their will. Through darkest of nights they will craft a new light and bring us our future, be it fearful or bright. A strange pair they make, the Fool and the Sun, and all will begin when the battle is done._"

That being said, Absolem spread his delicate wings and took off, flitting above the battlefield for a few moments before going on his way. Mirana stared after him, perplexed; once again, he had delivered a cryptic message about an important meeting. Once again, Mirana found herself at a loss to explain what he had meant.

Oblivious to Absolem's prophecy, Regina and Stayne circled each other on the battlefield, locked in their desperate struggle. She only just had time to dive between his over-long legs as he swung his sword down.

"Five. I am the Azure Princess of Witzend," she whispered.

She scrambled backwards, trying to put enough distance between Stayne and herself that she could get back on her feet. But her back hit something solid- the base of the hill on which the castle ruins rested. She dove sideways as Stayne's blade hit, throwing off sparks. She lunged to her feet, gripping her swords.

"Six. I can kill the Knave," she told herself.

She saw her chance then. He had lifted his sword too far overhead, causing his center of balance to be off. She rushed towards him, dropping one sword to grab his wrist as she shoved her sword through his neck.

"Off with your head," she repeated.

She didn't think she'd had the strength within her to decapitate him, but her sword was apparently incredibly sharp- either that, or it was exceptionally vengeful. Stayne's head bounced once, twice, before rolling to a stop, his face still elongated in shock. The body fell to its knees before toppling, laying still on the Chessboard while his black blood pooled beneath him.

Regina stared down at his corpse, stunned. She had done it; she had killed him. He had finally been brought to justice; the murdered Hightopps and all the other people who had suffered beneath the Knave's sway had finally been avenged.

Oh good heavens, she had _killed_ him.

She stumbled backwards, dropping her sword, jumping as it clattered on the ground. She swallowed hard, unable to rip her eyes away from the ever-expanding pool of blood; she knew it was necessary, that Stayne would have stopped at nothing… But she had still _killed_ him. He had had a life, and she had taken it; she had murdered him in cold blood.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump again, and she whipped around to behold Mirana standing beside her, her expressive face conveying pride and comfort.

"All hail the Queen of Crims," she announced.  
Regina blinked, hearing Mirana's words but not understanding them. "Wh-What?"  
"Stayne was married to Iracebeth," Mirana replied. "When she died, the crown passed to him. Now that you have killed him, the crown is yours by right."  
"Oh… I…" Regina shook her head, stunned. "I…"

She shook her head, intimidated. She hadn't wanted this; hadn't been expecting it at all. She had merely been acting as Champion; she hadn't known it would come with a crown! Fates, she wasn't even used to the fact that she was a Princess yet; did she really have to be a Queen on top of it?

Mirana squeezed Regina's shoulder and offered her a smile, before stepping away and turning to face the rebel army. Swords began falling, and the soldiers and mercenaries dropped to their knees, bending their heads to receive the judgment of the White Queen. The White army retreated as Mirana approached, her face stern.

"Though I am the High Queen of Underland, your fate is not for me to decide," she said. "You answered to the Red King, and thus it is for the new Queen to sentence you."

Turning, Mirana extended a hand, drawing Regina forwards. For one endless moment, Regina panicked; Lord, what was she doing here? She was no Princess; she wasn't a Queen. She had no authority over this army; who in their right minds could possibly think she did? She was a nobody, an unskilled, untrained girl; why was she being called upon to dispense justice and make decisions for a land she hadn't even known was real until three days ago?

Well, first things first, she thought faintly. She was the Champion of Underland, or at least she had been until the moment she became a Queen. She had to secure Underland's safety before anything else.

"For those whom this battle marks the second rebellion against Queen Mirana, no mercy will be shown," she said, her voice only a little shaky. "You will be executed on this battlefield for your double treachery against Underland. For those whom this makes a first offense, your fates will be decided separately."

At Regina's words, an invisible force seemed to separate the army. Certain soldiers- rusty, creaking Red Cards and Knights, some humans- were pushed forwards, while others were drawn back. The White soldiers stepped forwards, surrounding the first group and preparing to execute Regina's sentence. She walked away, turning her back on them and putting her focus on the rest. Surprisingly, chief among them seemed to be the young soldier and his band of warriors. From the way they angled themselves around him, she surmised that he must be their leader. She couldn't say she was surprised; he had alpha male written all over him.

"Who are you?" she asked.  
"The Hassasseen," he replied, folding his arms. "Our people were outlawed from Underland centuries ago."  
"Does… Did Stayne rule over you?" Regina asked.  
"Never," he said, eyes flashing. "We were allies, but never subservient to him."  
"Why?" she asked. "What did he promise you?"

He glanced to his right, exchanging a look with a slender, swarthy man with black curls and dark eyes. What their nonverbal conversation was, Regina couldn't guess, but they seemed to come to an accord, because the young leader turned back to Regina.

"Land," he answered. "A home for us and our people."

Regina glanced behind her, to Mirana. The High Queen was watching this interview, but made no move to interfere. Was Regina free to do as she wished with these Hassasseen, then?

"And if I offered you the same?" she asked, slowly.

She glanced up at the young commander. His blue eyes had narrowed, his suspicions clear.

"I find myself in sudden possession of a kingdom," she said, quickly thinking through her offer. "I need farmers, merchants, soldiers. If I grant your people amnesty, will you move into Crims and help me rebuild?"

The commander glanced to the man on his right again, who raised a single eyebrow in answer. The commander nodded, and glanced to his other men. As one, they lowered themselves, each on one knee, and held up their swords in tribute.

"We will answer to Queen Regina," they answered.  
Regina nodded, looking at the commander again. "What is your name?"  
"Dafydd, my lady," he replied.  
"You are the Hassasseen's leader?" she confirmed.  
"I am," he nodded.  
"Will you serve as my Ace of Hearts?" she asked. "Will you build my army?"  
"I'll serve as my Queen commands me," he answered.  
"So be it," she said, before turning to Mirana. "Queen Mirana," she said formally, awkwardly wondering if this was the right way to go about things, "these men have pledged their clan to me. I ask you to release them from their exile, so I might welcome them to my kingdom."  
"I do so grant these men and their families citizenship," Mirana answered. "A party of my own men will travel into the Outlands to gather them and bring them to Crims, as soon as you've been formally crowned."

Nodding, Regina stepped away from the Hassasseen, who clustered together and began talking amongst themselves.

As soon as the Princess had walked away, Ioan turned to face Dafydd.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Why are we chaining ourselves to the Hightopp's whelp? She's standing between us and Tearmunn, Dafydd!"  
"Think, Ioan," Dafydd replied, keeping his voice low and tightly controlled. "She's his daughter. She can come and go from Tearmunn as she pleases. We stay close to her, we work our way into her trust and his… that'll get us to Tearmunn. When the time's right, we take it for ourselves and get rid of them." Dafydd nodded as Ioan's face cleared in understanding. "Just be patient, Ioan," he counseled, his voice low. "We'll be home soon enough."

* * *

As Regina walked away from the Hassasseen, the first thing that caught her gaze was the Healers' pavilion. Biting her lip with apprehension, she strode over to the large white tent, hesitating momentarily on the doorstep before rallying her courage and walking inside.

She blinked, bemused by the sight. Who had set up these rows upon rows of cots, and when? Even worse, when had people begun to fill them? Regina felt her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach as she looked around. These brave men had come to the battlefield to fight for her, for her parents and for Underland, and now they were suffering for it. Worse than that, even after they'd sacrificed and risked so much, the task was only half complete; Underland was now safe from the Knave, but Witzend was still in a shambles. How could she face the soldiers, when she hadn't yet made their sacrifice mean something?

Spotting her aunt further towards the back of the tent, Regina drew a deep breath and walked back towards her. The White Queen had removed her crown, tied an apron over her voluminous skirts, and braided her hair off her face. She stood over the cot of a wounded Rook, calmly mixing a potion together and talking to him in a low, soothing tone.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Mirana asked caringly, looking over Regina searchingly.  
Regina shrugged. "I suppose so. I'm not injured, at any rate."  
"Are you certain?" Mirana asked. "You fell rather hard a time or two."  
Regina shook her head. "It's nothing, compared to some of the others. Just a few bruises." She bit her lip. "Were there very many casualties?" she asked in a small voice.  
"Not so very many," Mirana said, though a shadow passed through her eyes. "Though of course, every death is much mourned."

Regina looked down at the cot, worrying a frayed thread between her fingers. After a moment of silence, Mirana sat on the cot, supporting the Rook's head in one hand and gently pouring the potion over his featureless, cracked face.

"Your mother is here," Mirana said neutrally, glancing up at Regina. "In her own room. Your father is with her."  
Regina nodded slowly. "Is she awake?"  
"Not yet," Mirana shook her head. "She took quite a hit to her crown."

Regina nodded again, lips quirking at the pun, then reluctantly stood. She figured she probably had to get this over with sooner or later… Steeling herself, she headed back to the partitioned corner Mirana had directed her to. When she got to the doorway, she paused for a moment, observing.

Alice was indeed still unconscious. Someone had stripped her of her Champion's armor, and it had been neatly placed onto its stand in the corner. She lay prostrate on the cot, a large strip of bandage wrapped around her head. Regina wondered absently how badly Alice had hit her head; when she woke up, would she once again believe that Wonderland was a dream?

It was Tarrant who held Regina's attention, though. He sat utterly and absolutely still by Alice's side. He didn't move to take her hand or to tend to her head wound; Regina wondered if he even truly knew where he was. The stillness was unnerving to Regina; for as long as she had read about him- and the few precious hours she'd spent with him- Tarrant had _never_ been still. He had constantly fidgeted and fluttered about, in a constant storm of motion. Idly, she wondered if he was holding himself so still because he was injured. That he had endured torture while at Salazen Grum was obvious from the bruises and cuts that disfigured his face; it really didn't take much Imagination to think that he was hiding more bruises beneath his waistcoat and trousers.

"Da?" she asked cautiously.

She bit her lip as Tarrant's shoulders tensed. Oh dear; were they going to go through another round of him not believing that she was who she said she was?

"Gie out," he growled. "Lae us in peace."  
"No," Regina said, stepping forward.

Before she'd taken more than three steps, she froze, the blade of Tarrant's claymore against her neck. She raised her hands in surrender, her heart hammering in her chest. She swallowed hard; she hadn't expected that Tarrant would actually attack her. As Mad as he was, she had never heard of him threatening anyone before. She tried to keep her expression calm as she looked up into her father's face, but her fear only deepened as she gazed into his sickly topaz eyes, ringed by black shadows. If he was this firmly ensconced in the Madness, was he beyond all reason?

"Yoo're a bluddy pretender," he snarled, menace lacing every word. "Mah dochter is jist Alice's dream, an' Alice isnae dreamin' reit noo. Sae ye cannae be haur. Leave noo our I'll kill ye."  
"Would you kill me, Da?" Regina asked, not having to feign the tremor in her voice. "After I've fought so hard to come home?"  
"LIAR!" Tarrant bellowed. "Yoo're nae mah Regina!"

Regina screamed as Tarrant reared back, ducking a moment before his blade swung. She scrambled backwards, wincing as her armor clashed and banged against her already battered body. She watched, frightened, as the heavy claymore's momentum caused Tarrant to lose his balance. He fell over, crashing to the floor in a heap. Frantic, Regina scrambled to her feet, wanting to help her father up but terrified he would attack her again.

For a moment, Tarrant lay on the floor, stunned. He groaned; Fates, he had felt that fall in every muscle and bone in his body! Then he blinked in confusion; wait, he had _felt_ that. But… hadn't he surrendered to the Madness so he wouldn't have to feel?

Cautiously, he glanced around, confused when he didn't see the familiar, dark, dank walls of his dungeon cell. Instead, white cloth walls billowed gently, there was grass beneath him… he was in a tent? How had he gotten into a tent? And by the Butterfly, why did he hurt so much?

Groaning again, he sat up, monitoring his entire body to catalogue his injuries. He felt broken ribs, innumerable bruises, painful areas that must have been burned or lacerated… but nothing hurt so much as his head. It was always like this, after the Madness took him; his head felt as though an entire army had burst out from inside his skull, and then a doctor had rather inexpertly patched him back up. It was painful and draining, but Tarrant discounted that. A few cups of Tea and a long sleep and he'd be as fit as a butcher's dog…

Shaking his head slowly to clear it of the last of the blackness, he looked up to find a pale, nervous-looking young woman watching him, wariness written in every line of her body. He blinked, staring up at her. Sweet holy Spirit of Underland, how had he not noticed how very much she looked like Alice? The coloring was his, he granted; the young Not Truly An Uplander had his ginger curls and green eyes. But her expressions, her stance… she was all Alice's. How had he not realized who the girl who called herself Jane truly was earlier?

"Are you alright?" Regina asked, not quite able to hide the tension in her voice.

Tarrant felt his stomach clenching as he realized what emotion she was displaying- fear. She was afraid of him. She hadn't been afraid of him before; even when he had veered into multiple fits of Madness in one evening, she had handled that in stride. What had he done during his Madness to frighten her? He blinked down at his hand; why was he holding his claymore?

Wait…

A suspicion, a sudden, horrible Idea, began to grow in his mind. Was it possible that he… could he possibly have…? Surely he hadn't actually _threatened_ her…?

"Re- Jane?" he whispered, fear coating his voice. "Did I… what just…?"  
"Are you yourself again, Da?" she asked, her voice weak and soft.  
"Yes, I-" He cut himself off, her words slowly sinking in. As he registered what she'd said, his eyes widened. "What did you just say?"  
He stared at her, dumbfounded, as she swallowed hard. "I asked if you were yourself again. Da."  
His jaw dropped slightly, his mind going blank. "You…"  
"I know," she confirmed. "I know who I am."

He stood slowly, both in deference to his battered body and simply due to shock. For a long moment, they simply stood there, staring at each other across a short expanse that felt more like a canyon.

He had dreamt of this moment for eighteen years. Ever since the moment he'd learned that Regina had been taken from him, he had yearned for the moment when she would be restored to him. He had often dreamt of sweeping his wee little boy into his arms, crushing her to him and vowing to never, _ever_ let her go again. He had prayed for the day when he would see the beautiful woman his baby had become.

But now the moment had arrived, and Tarrant found that he was at a complete loss. When faced with the reality of his daughter… what did he do? Should he embrace her? Should he apologize for having lost her? How did he become reacquainted with the stranger that was his daughter?

"Regina, I…" he said, faltering.

She looked up at him, and his voice caught in his throat. The fear was still there, and the wariness, but now it warred with a tenuous, fragile thread of hope. Whatever he had done to frighten her, Tarrant hoped that it wasn't so very bad; he prayed that he could watch the hope blossom in her beautiful eyes.

"I want to go home," she said hesitantly.

He felt himself Graying, his heart crumbling into ashes. Oh, the Fates were cruel; to have found his daughter at last, only to lose her once again? He should have been expecting it, he told himself. Regina hadn't been raised in Underland, after all; despite how much he loved her, there really wasn't anything to tie her here. But could he stand to watch her walk away?

"Of course," he said dully, staring down at the grass.  
"Oh… if you don't want to go to Berserka, we don't have to," Regina said hurriedly, sounding worried. "We can stay in Marmoreal if you want… I just… I don't want to be on the Chessboard anymore."  
Tarrant blinked, looking up, helpless against the wild hope that flared in his heart. "You… you want to stay in Underland?"  
"Of course," Regina said, sounding surprised. "This is home, isn't it? This is where I was born, where you are. And… and Aunt Mirana said that I've just become the Queen of Crims. I can't very well learn how to rule if I'm not here, can I?"  
"You want to stay," Tarrant repeated, feeling his heart stutter and skip.  
"Yes," Regina said hesitantly. "That is… if you want me."  
"If I want you?" Tarrant parroted, staring. "Of _course_ I want you!"

Suddenly, the canyon was no more than a couple of feet. He rushed towards her, throwing his arms around her and holding her safe against his chest, tightening his grip when he felt her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He closed his eyes against tears of his own as he held his precious child to him. She had done what Alice could never give; she had chosen to stay.

"Retiuni Day, at last," he whispered. "Welcome home, my little Princess."

* * *

**Additional Notes**: As I mentioned, I ended up completely rewriting this chapter. One of the things that changed was Dafydd and Regina's meeting. Because Dafydd insists on changing all of my plans. Originally, Dafydd was a lot more subservient and compliant; that's obviously changed. But I can't exactly complain, since I like this version of their interaction better.

As for the moment between Tarrant and Regina… yeah, that was another major deviation from the original chapter. I have no idea where this new idea came from; I cannot believe that Tarrant actually attacked Regina. But it was effective, right? It was really interesting to put Tarrant into that place; the movie proved that his Madness could be really dangerous [Queen's hat room, anyone?] and I think it was important to address the fact that Tarrant could be a danger to the ones he loves most.


	12. Happily Ever After

**Author's Note**: Here we are, the final chapter to Book One of _The Wonderland Chronicles_. This chapter only used to be three pages long; it was originally only the last two scenes in this chapter. The first two scenes were added in during editing; they come as a result of that 48-hour editing binge I went on. I like the edited version of this chapter a lot better; I think it does a much better job of wrapping up the story and getting us set for Book Two.

Speaking of Book Two… yeah, Regina's story is nowhere near finished yet. Next up, I'm going to be posting a series of one-shots called _Between the Pages_; scenes that aren't essential to the plot but that allow me to do some much-needed character development in the time gap between Books One and Two. Book Two will be posted after I get _Between the Pages_ up; it's called _Rescue from the Outlands_. Those should both be out shortly. Until then, this is _Search for the Azure Princess_, signing off.

**Dress Note**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's morning dress [but in white and blue]: http:/ farm 4. static. flickr. com/ 3583/ 3497641078_ 6977 d 37 a 9 f. jpg

Regina's design for her castle [but in glass]: http:/ crafthub. net/wp- content/ uploads/ 2011/ 06/ fantasy_ castle_ 59940. jpg

Regina's ballgown: http:/ www. rossetti. vispa. com/ contania. html

Regina's jewelry: http:/ www. internetstones. com/ image- files/ settwotwo. jpg

Regina's tiara: http:/ www. internetstones. com/ image- files/ queen- marie- amelie- sapphire- diamond- pearl- tiara- a. jpg

**Disclaimer**: There's an absolutely _brilliant_ AIW story here on ffn by Manniness called _One Promise Kept_. Now, this story utterly blew my mind when I read it, both because of the sheer genius of storytelling as well as the impeccable characterizations contained within. There are two characters in OPK who are Lions. I promise on Tarrant's Hat, I did not steal the idea for the character you're going to meet in this chapter, Leferidae, from OPK. I actually took the idea from Disney- _The Lion King_ and _Robin Hood_, to be exact. Please don't sic Manniness on me with accusations of plagiarism, because I promise I'm not trying to steal her brilliance! Do, however, read her work, and marvel with me.

The name Leferidae, by the way, comes from combining the words _leo_ and _felidae_, both scientific names of lions. You pronounce it la-FAIR-ih-day.

Furthermore, Leferidae's title, the Duke of Tenniel, comes from the surname of the man who did the illustrations for the original books, John Tenniel.

* * *

Regina yawned again, wincing as the carriage jolted over the uneven ground. Really, was the driver trying to find the worst, bumpiest route possible? Because if so, he was doing a marvelous job.

Gingerly, she shifted again, trying to adjust the pillows to better cushion her battered body against the rocking of the carriage. When she'd left the Chessboard after the battle yesterday, it had taken all of her willpower to remain awake long enough to return to Marmoreal. She had nearly fallen off of her Panther when the victorious White Army reached the front gate, and Tarrant had rushed forward to support her, completely ignoring his own injuries. He had waved off the help of Regina's new bodyguards with a dark glare, slinging her arm over his shoulders and supporting her as they limped inside. They must have made a sorry picture, struggling through the halls of the palace until they reached their own suites.

Tarrant had reluctantly surrendered Regina to Clover and Azalea, then stumbled off to his own rooms. Meanwhile, Clover had sat Regina down and begun to ease off her armor while Azalea prepared a steaming hot bath. Sometime after the armor had been removed and Clover and Azalea had gasped in horror at Regina's many bruises, Regina must have passed out, because she didn't remember anything else between then and waking up this morning.

She had hoped to spend the day quietly in her suite, nursing her bruises with a pot of tea or five and perhaps a hot bath. But her hopes had been dashed almost immediately; first thing in the morning, a Rabbit Page had hopped into her room and announced that the Queen requested her presence. Clover had hurried Regina into a gown- what Regina would call a robe a la turque, if she were still Above. The gown was exceedingly light and unadorned; the undergown was white, the overdress and sleeves ice blue. Apart from the blue sash that tied around her waist, there was no embellishment or embroidery to this gown, which was just fine with Regina; she didn't have the patience to mind ribbons or be careful of buttons today. Regina had waited only long enough for Azalea to fetch her a hat; she was determined never to appear without a hat again. Once she'd swept her hair into a hasty bun and secured the wide-brimmed sunhat to her head, she was off.

Regina had expected to be escorted into the Queen's chamber again, but instead the Page led her outside. Regina blinked upon seeing Mirana waiting inside the royal carriage, and the White Queen had done nothing to ameliorate her confusion, merely motioned her inside. Once Regina was seated, the carriage had taken off. Regina had spent the entire morning being jostled about the carriage, with no real idea of where Mirana was taking her, and the continual discomfort was beginning to wear on her temper.

"Aunt Mirana, what are we doing?" she asked, trying not to snap.

Only seconds later, the carriage drew to an abrupt halt. Mirana kept her seat, but Regina was flung forward, and only kept on the bench by grabbing the edge of her seat.

"Take a look outside, dear," Mirana suggested.

Drawing a deep breath to bite back her impatient words, Regina did as Mirana told her, struggling with her wide skirts to exit the carriage and take a look around.

She stood in a desolate, barren valley. There was no vegetation to be seen; merely bare, scorched earth sloping up on all sides.

"Where are we?" Regina asked curiously.  
"This is all that remains of Salazen Grum," Mirana replied, exiting the carriage. "That is the ruins of my sister's castle."

A cold shiver of dread ran up Regina's spine as she looked at the ruins of the once-grand palace of Crims. According to Alice's stories, Iracebeth's castle had once been terrifying… but beautiful, in a strange way. Not a single stone of the palace remained standing now; from the scorch marks, Regina guessed that the palace had been burned down, the debris carried away for other building projects.

As she looked around, Regina frowned. The land seemed… sad, almost; terribly lonely and neglected. She well understood how that felt, to be perpetually looked over and ignored. She felt compelled to take one step forward, then another.

"Feel free to explore, my dear," Mirana called after here. "I'll be waiting here for you."

As Mirana had expected, Regina didn't reply; she merely kept moving steadily forward, compelled by an alien force. Mirana held her breath, expectantly watching Regina's hem. Sure enough, wherever the young Princess stepped, soft shoots of grass began to pop out of the earth, spreading and beginning to form a carpet of green across the barren ground.

Mirana sighed in satisfaction. "I knew it," she smiled.

Regina continued walking, lifting her skirts so that she could move faster. Where was she being led? She had no idea, but she wasn't afraid. She didn't feel as though she were in danger; on the contrary, she felt entirely protected. Even when she began picking her way through the rickety debris of the castle, she wasn't afraid; somehow she knew that whatever force was compelling her wouldn't allow her to be crushed by shifting stones.

Regina rounded one crumbled pile of masonry, then stopped short. Standing before her, perfectly preserved, was an arched doorway. She walked around it curiously; the door stood for no reason. It led nowhere; there was no room remaining behind it. So why hadn't the archway fallen? Brow furrowing, Regina grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door swung open easily… But instead of more burned field and destroyed stone, Regina saw only darkness.

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured.

Regina looked further within the doorway. The further she leaned in, the stronger she felt compelled. Finally, she gathered up her skirts and boldly stepped through the doorway into the darkness.

She couldn't see a thing. The darkness was so thick she swore she could touch it. With her sight useless, all her other senses seemed to sharpen; or perhaps that rhythmic, drum-like sound truly was overwhelming. The longer she listened to it, the more she realized that it sounded like a heartbeat. Moreover, the beat echoed her own pulse. Regina's eyes fluttered closed, and for a timeless time she simply stood there, listening to the mysterious, echoed heartbeat.

_Mine… Mine… You are mine…_

Was she thinking that, or was she being told? Was she claiming, or being claimed? Had she just become the ruler of the Heart of Crims, or had the Heart just absorbed her?

_Yours… I am yours…_

Had she submitted, or had the Heart? Who was now the master, and who the servant? Or were they, perhaps, becoming the same entity?

She had feared this only yesterday; she had been terrified by the prospect of becoming a queen. Yet now, here in this secret chamber, there was no fear, or even excitement. There was simply a Truth. The Heart of Crims had claimed her; she had become the Heart. _She_ was the Heart of Crims; the land had claimed her, and she had no choice but to protect her own.

When she opened her eyes, Regina was standing before the door again. She opened the door, blinking as the harsh sunlight poured in, nearly blinding her. When her eyes adjusted, Regina blinked in confusion. Hadn't the valley been barren and dead? Why, then, was the earth carpeted in grass? Was that a young apple tree growing before her wondering eyes?

"Welcome back, sweet," Mirana smiled.

Regina blinked again, wiping at her watering eyes. Mirana was seated on a tapestry on the ground, beneath the shade of a quickly growing brace of trees. Beside her was seated a noble Lion, dressed in a belted red tunic, edged in gold. When he saw her, the Lion inclined his head, a low growl issuing from his throat.

"Aunt Mirana, what's happening?" Regina asked, unsteadily walking out into the sunlight.  
"Come sit down, my dear," Mirana requested.

Nodding, Regina walked over, gracefully sinking down onto the tapestry and trying not to stare at Mirana's guest.

"So this is the new Queen," the Lion said, considering her with his golden eyes.  
"Yes," Mirana nodded. "Leferidae, may I introduce Her Highness Regina Miraget Hightopp, the Azure Princess of Witzend and the As-Yet-Colorless Queen of Crims. Regina, this is Leferidae, Duke of Tenniel. His family has a long history of serving the Red Royalty." At this, Mirana smiled. "I believe Alice mentioned them in her book."  
Regina gasped. "The Lion and the Unicorn!" she exclaimed, grinning gleefully.  
"Ah, so that poem still lives on," Leferidae sighed, shaking his head. "Yes. That was my grandfather. Rather a family embarrassment, I'm afraid. I assure you, the rest of my family have been faithful Rooks."  
"I'm sure you have," Regina smiled. "Um… excuse me, but why are you here?"  
"Why, because of you, Your Majesty," Leferidae said, sounding surprised. "When the next ruler of Crims appears, my family is honor-bound to return to serve them. Just as the Unicorns are bound to the White Royals," he added, inclining his head at Mirana.  
"Now, you won't be formally crowned for quite some time," Mirana hastened to assure Regina. "After all, you've only just returned home. We have to fill your head with Ideas before you can truly become the Queen of Crims. But still, you were technically crowned on the battlefield yesterday; the fact that Leferidae's here confirms it. So he's come to serve you, as Councilor and messenger and Rook and whatever else you may need."  
"Oh," Regina nodded. "Thank you."  
"It's my honor, Your Majesty," Leferidae said courteously. "Obviously, our first task is to rebuild Salazen Grum. You can hardly rule without a castle."  
"Yes, I suppose you're right," Regina said. "Is there anyone in the kingdom we can bring to build a new palace?"  
"Of course," Leferidae said. "I admit, the kingdom has fallen apart like a house of cards. Such has been the fate of many of the Kingdoms of Underland. It has been a very long time since the people of Crims have had a proper ruler. However, now that you are home, all will be put to rights. I think it shouldn't be too difficult to find some workers. So, Your Majesty, what would you like your castle to look like?"

Regina was quiet for a long moment, her large, leaf-green eyes unfocusing as she thought. For years in the Aboveground, she had been imaginging what her parents' Wonderland castle might look like. She had spent hours imagining playing in the hallways and throne hall, or wandering through the gardens. She knew exactly what the castle should look like.

"I want my castle to be made of glass," she stated. "Do you have paper, so I can sketch it out?"

Mirana handed her parchment and a quill, leaning in as Regina excitedly began to sketch. As the basic shape of the castle began to take shape, Leferidae nodded.

"I don't think this will be very difficult," he said. "A year or two, if Time cooperates."  
"That would be a first," Mirana laughed. "Who will open negotiations with him? Time is likely to be rather unforgiving, considering we're asking for his help concerning a Hightopp."  
"Oh dear," Leferidae sighed. "That's a good point. Do you think Time will be so very difficult?"  
"Well, he does still begrudge Tarrant for the murder attempt," Mirana shrugged. "Perhaps we should send Absolem to reason with him."

Mirana and Leferidae continued to discuss how to persuade Time, but Regina tuned them out. Instead, she gazed out over the valley that would one day, hopefully, be the seat of her kingdom. She watched the grass continue to spread over the ground, small wildflowers dotting the new carpet. She watched apple trees spring out of the ground, spreading their tendrils to the skies. She watched in amazement as a dry gulch began to burble with the beginnings of clear water. She couldn't possibly have been the cause of this change, could she? Then again, the valley was beginning to resemble her dream kingdom from her childhood… Was Underland really only a dream that she could bend and twist to suit her own fancy?

Regina sighed, rubbing her temples. Oh no, she was not going down this road. Her father had spent years torturing himself with the possibility that he was only a figment of Alice's imagination; she wasn't continuing that family tradition. Underland was real, it was not a dream, and that was that. End of story.

* * *

Witzend shook her head, trying to control her dizziness. She wasn't yet used to transmogrifying, and this had been a big trip. It didn't help that her grandsire was incredibly erratic with his transmogrifying, varying his speed and disappearing as it suited him.

"Are you alright, Pup?"  
Witzend growled at the disembodied voice. "I don't appreciate the insult, Grandsire."  
"Well, what else am I to call you when you take to transmogrification as well as a dog?" the Cheshire Cat asked, appearing directly in front of her.

Witzend growled again, angrily standing and walking away from her grandsire. When he was out of her line of vision, however, she stopped short, staring about in wonder.

They stood in a large, shallow cave. The walls were covered with a phosphorescent material that glowed bluish-green, filtering an eerie light through the entire cavern. Stalactites and stalagmites ringed the cave, glittering with water and salt crystals. In the center of the cavern was a single stalagmite, its top worn smooth. Floating above the stalagmite was a faint, shimmering ripple, almost like an opening in a curtain.

Witzend stared at the rippling, transfixed. "What is it?" she asked, her voice hushed and echoing through the large cave.  
"That is a doorway," the Cheshire Cat replied, sitting beside Witzend, all traces of superiority and sarcasm gone. "Do you know where we are?"  
"Um… a big… underground cave?" Witzend ventured a guess.  
The Cat rolled his eyes. "This is the Cave of Contingency," he announced. "The Haven of the Cheshire Cats."  
"Apparently it's a C Day," Witzend said dryly.  
"You know, of course, the expression _curiosity killed the cat_," Chess said soberly.  
"Of course," Witzend nodded meekly, the ancient threat of the words chilling her.  
"Down here, it's true," the Cat informed her. "We are the Guardians of the Tapestry of Underland. If we don't know the master pattern of Time, we are helpless and vulnerable. We must always know what we are working to bring about. Hence, this cave." He glanced around, before drawing Witzend's attention back to the ripple. "Do you see that?"  
"Yes," Witzend breathed, staring at it.  
"That is a crack," Chess said. "A wrinkle, or a portal."  
"What's on the other side?" Witzend asked.  
"Time," Chessur replied.

Witzend stared at her grandsire for a silent moment, before they both turned back to the ripple.

"Underland has permitted us, as the Guardians of Underland, to look into Time himself," the Cheshire Cat said gravely. "We are permitted to see the patterns Time is sewing into Underland, to view the master plan of our world, on the understanding that we must then move the appropriate people into their proper places, so that they can play their part." He gave Witzend a hard look. "Can you do that, Pup? Loving your little mistress as you do, can you manipulate her, force her to face danger and heartbreak, in order to bring her to her destiny?"  
Witzend swallowed hard, then delicately licked her chops. "Do I have a choice? This is my destiny. Being moved by the Spirit of Underland is hers. I'd prefer to be here, where I can keep an eye on her."  
"A good answer," the Cat said silkily. "Look into the portal, then. But remember, there are infinite possibilities when you're dealing with the future. Time never makes up his mind until the present moment."

Witzend gulped, drew a deep breath, then slowly looked up, peering through the veil concealing Time from her.

She looked, and her mind opened.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking rapidly.  
"Easy, Pup," the Cat said, drifting around her and propping her up as she swayed. "Take a breath."

Witzend breathed shakily, slowly lowering herself to lie on the ground. She closed her eyes, but the millions upon millions of images she'd seen still whirled through her mind, spinning ever faster until she swore she was spinning in circles, too.

"I don't look into the portal very often, myself," Chess said, laying beside her. "Time is too much in flux. There are many threads of Time that we don't need to touch or meddle with. I myself only concern myself with the fixed points."  
"Which are which?" Witzend mewed weakly.  
The Cat raised an eyebrow. "Your mind spins," he said shrewdly. "What images never change?"

It made her more dizzy to attempt to pay attention to the whirling images, but Witzend forced herself to focus until she found an image that remained stationary through all of the others.

"Oh," she said again, softly. "I see. So this is what must come to pass?"  
"Not what _must_," Chess replied. "What _will_. No matter what else does or does not happen, that child will be born. Whether he becomes a source of pain or of comfort to your little mistress depends on what other futures you bring to pass. But no matter what else you do, you cannot prevent her from bearing him that son."  
"I see," Witzend said, smiling at the image burned into her mind. "Hello, little prince."

The Cheshire Cat lay quietly, watching his grandkitten as she fought to control the futures dancing in her mind. He wondered what kind of Guardian Witzend would make. Would she allow Time a long leash to design the future? Or would her fierce devotion to her mistress narrow her vision and blind her to the larger pattern?

Either way, Underland was in for an interesting future.

* * *

She walked through the silent marble halls of the White Palace, head held high. The only sounds were the soft swish of her skirts, and her heels clicking against the floor. The hall was dim, lit only by starlight and a periodic brace of candles on the wall, but she didn't need much light to find her way down to the grand ballroom.

Mirana, loving a good party as much as the next Underlandian, had declared on the Chessboard that a three-day celebration would be hosted at the palace, beginning with a ball to celebrate Stayne's defeat and Regina's return. With the exception of the trip to Crims, Mirana had spent every spare moment of the last two days making preparations, while Regina had been swept off to the Royal Seamstress to be fitted for an entire new wardrobe.

Today had been filled with servants preparing the castle under Mirana's watchful eye, the other rulers of Underland coming to Marmoreal and settling into their quarters, and Regina at the beck and call of seamstresses, jewelers, and the Court Designer, to consult about furnishing her rightful quarters, before being whisked off for a quick lesson in some basic Underlandian dances. Regina hadn't had a moment to herself all day, and she found her head was reeling.

At least she was a vision of beauty, she thought idly. She wore a ballgown, made of fine silk and tulle. It was sky blue of course, with a long Marmoreal-style corseted bodice, off-the-shoulder straps, and a full skirt with a tulle overskirt studded with silk and tulle flowers. And she was bedecked with jewelry, pieces that Tarrant had ordered brought to Marmoreal from the Witzend royal vaults. Sapphires and diamonds encircled her neck, wrists, and ears; on her right hand rested a sapphire ring of state. Sitting atop her elaborate hairdo was an elegant diamond, pearl and sapphire tiara. She scarcely recognized herself, and yet this was absolutely herself, her true self, the one she'd been born to be.

The ball had already begun, she knew; Mirana had wanted the crowning spectacle of the evening to be Regina's entrance. Hence the silence of the halls she walked through; everyone was already in the ballroom, waiting for her.

She came to a stop outside the double doors, anxiety and anticipation warring in her veins. Behind the doors, she knew, was her future; the beginning of a brand new life. Tonight she would take her place in Wonderland, never again to leave. What new adventures waited for her behind these doors? Would she succeed as a princess, or was she destined to fail?

She lifted her head until her chin was parallel with the floor. Well, whatever awaited her, she wouldn't find it by cowering behind closed doors. She was the daughter of Alice of Legend, Champion of Underland, and Tarrant Hightopp, leader of the Underland Underground Resistance; it wasn't in her to back down from a challenge. Her muchness wouldn't allow it. Nodding to the guards to open the doors, she lifted her skirts and stepped forwards as McTwisp presented her.

"Announcing Her Royal Highness, Regina Miraget Hightopp, the Azure Princess of Witzend!"

She paused on the balcony inside the doors as the entire room bowed or curtsied to her. When they rose, she dipped into a graceful curtsey before descending one side of the double grand staircase.

As she began walking, Mirana signaled to the musicians, who began the opening strains to a piece that in the Above would have begged for a waltz. Keeping a smile on her face and a steady pace, Regina walked to the dance floor. Mirana had told her what the Court was expecting from her; generally a first dance was taken with a gentleman whom one favored. In some things, at least, Underland and the Aboveground weren't that different. And Regina had a very strong message for any gentleman who might think of courting her.

Smiling prettily, Regina dipped into a low curtsey, lifting one hand in supplication to her athair.

Tarrant beamed from ear to ear, a grin that would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous had he been there to see it. Easing Regina from her curtsey, he led her to the middle of the floor, bowing over her hand before leading her in the dance. Regina relaxed in her father's arms, following his expert guidance and losing herself to the music. She sighed happily; dancing with her father had once been her dearest, most treasured daydream. Now it was finally happening… and it was better than anything she could have imagined.

The White Court watched from the sidelines, respectful of Regina's right to dance this first piece alone. No gentleman attempted to cut in, understanding Regina's warning to Underland; any man who wished to have her must first pass through the Mad Hatter. But though no man tried to claim the rest of this dance with her, they were all watching, admiring the slight, graceful girl who had been blessed with the best of both parents, all of them content in the knowledge that the future of this rare jewel of a princess shined as bright as the stars overhead.

The dance ended with a final bow. Before any man had a chance to claim her for the next dance, Regina appropriated her uncle, compounding her silent message to any would-be suitors. Kalen easily swept her through the dancing couples while Tarrant withdrew, conferring quietly with Mirana before leaving the ball, likely to spend the evening by Alice's bedside.

From that moment on, Regina didn't sit once all night. Count after Duke after Captain led her out to dance, each wanting their turn with the enchanting princess. Regina moved blissfully through it all. For now, all her cares and worries about her future were laid to rest. For tonight, all was well.

"My lords and ladies, it is time for the final dance of the evening," McTwisp announced hours later.

Regina smiled as her athair appeared out of nowhere and led her out to the floor. Tomorrow, she knew, would begin the difficult part. Tomorrow she would begin lessons, in history, diplomacy, and the skills of rule. Tomorrow she would leave Marmoreal with her athair to return to the city of her birth; tomorrow she would have to face Alice. She would have to come to peace with her past while preparing for her future as the Queen of Crims. But for tonight, everything was perfect.

* * *

Lady Ascot walked through the ballroom, a very definite frown upon her face as she passed the waltzing couples and made her way to the billiards room, where most of the men had disappeared.

"Richard," she said as she entered the room.  
"Yes, my dear?" he asked, looking up from the game of cards he'd been engrossed in.  
"Jane stormed out of the ballroom half an hour ago and has not returned," she said. "Pray go upstairs and bring her back down. Lord Chesterton is waiting to dance with her."

Lord Ascot raised an eyebrow, but relented, leaving his card game to attempt to reason with his ward. Finding the door locked, he reached into his pocket for the key, knocking before entering.

He blinked in confusion to find the room empty. Jane's ballgown lay in a heap on the floor, and the displacement of the smaller pieces of furniture were tribute to one of Jane's fits. But no Jane lay in bed or sat in a chair; not even her kitten was to be found. A second examination revealed a large, thick envelope, addressed to him, sitting propped against the looking glass. Frowning, he cracked open the wax seal and began to read.

_Dear Papa Richard—_

_I want you to know that I love you very much, and words will never express how very grateful I am to you for taking me in and raising me. No father could have done more for his daughter, and I will never forget it._

_But I've been contacted by my biological parents. Can you believe it? After all these years, I have finally found them. I'm sure you remember Alice Kingsleigh? She recently contacted me and informed me that she was my mother. She had secretly married my father, a duke by the name of Tarrant Hightopp, when she left the Company, but shortly after I was born, he lost all of his money in a disastrous business venture. They were forced to give me up while they sailed overseas to the Caribbean in order to build a new life. Now that they are finally secure, my mother has come back for me, so that we can be a family again._

_You may never see me again, but know you are always in my heart, and I will always love my Papa Richard._

_All my love,  
Your Queen of Sheba._

_PS- My real name is Regina Miraget Hightopp.  
PPS- Enclosed is a manuscript; the sequel to __Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_._ It's titled __Return to Wonderland__. Please show it to my cousin Lottie, and give her my love._

Richard smiled as he withdrew the manuscript from the envelope. He would miss his little Jane fiercely, yes, but he had a feeling he knew where to find her, and he knew she would be alright. After all, Alice had always gotten a happily ever after in Wonderland…


End file.
